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Ticking clock

Fate

 

The clock has ticked

Its last

And cast

Its spell

Rung the

Alarm bell

Helped fate

Take its grip.

So we

Slip

Into the

forbidden forest

Glorious

In the

Gloom

Glorious

As the

Monsoon

Sweeping

Through

Our minds

As we wait,

Blind,

Assigned

A path

Not of our

Choosing

Just bruising

And ripping

Apart

Our dreams

Deemed

Too highly sought

Too easily bought

By others

In the game of life.

 

We wait outside

The door

Faces to the

Floor

And are

Never

The same

Again.

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