we are temporary things…

a history of skeletons behind us,

a march of unborn ahead…

we are made of moments,

built of minutes,

creations of seconds….

some are misers of clock ticks,

others spend them like there’s no tomorrow…

we are transience given form,

cursed and blessed with consciousness,

dancing flesh balanced on time’s razor,

obsessed with impossible eternity,

always on the edge of madness

induced by fear of death.

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