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Not-As-Old old poems
And there it stands
Another blank page
Another wasted day.
The hand moves faster
than the heart demands
Be ready for tomorrow
Time flies, so they say
How could I be ready for
tomorrow if I’m not even
ready for today
I click, I write, I erase.
This is the only life cycle
remaining
I am no longer human
just a glimpse of what
once was
It does not matter
This is all I am
Click, write, erase.
Another blank page
