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There's a presence right beside me,
And all around me, too.
Rushing, dripping, I feel time,
And all of those it's left behind.
I feel the heartbeat of the past,
Of every love that didn't last.
And as the wind blows through the trees,
I muse, 'When will it be me?
When will my life be a story?
Thought up in some author's head,
That hears the whispers of the dead.
When will it be me?'
The sun rises and I see,
Time is dripping, dripping by.
Forever, death is doomed to sigh,
"They never learn, they never find,
The lessons I have left behind."
©2008-2009 ~ktfoo
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Submitted: May 6, 2008
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Author's Comments

Have you ever been to a place, and it's as if there's some kind of energy all around you? Like an aura, or the memories of those long passed away. That's what this little poem is about.

Inspired by a book titled A Certain Slant of Light. So far, it's been good.

Short, sweet, but I absolutely adore this poem.

<333

(c) ktfoo 2008.
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Comments


I love it too [=

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I honestly think that's the best poem I've ever read. There's just something about your writing that captivates me.
thank you so much! :glomp::glomp::glomp:

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:icongwomp: i love this icon!

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Fweee! I wonder abuot things like this too...
nicely put! ^^

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"Well, this is a cliché." -Jack O'Neill
thank you!!! fweeeeee

FMEH!

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fmeh. fmeh. FMEHFMEHFMEFHFMEHFFSJHGGdfosh.
lol.

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"Well, this is a cliché." -Jack O'Neill

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