Quondam

100 44 12
                                    

A minute is, in time,
traveling

I am, in me,
missing

My heart I had to
fasten

But I witnessed my wrongs
open

My self did not idolize
me

Lost places of where I want to
Be

Life stole my
light

I stole the dark to rise
bright

Unable to erase my handwritten
fate

In view of it sprinting
Late.

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