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Emma Cowell, 02 May '13

Why does time pass us by?
Fleeting wings
against the sky
that is a snow globe.
We beat our heads
against glass,
throw our fists
at nothing.

We revolve, evolve;
Migrate, with seasons
that never change.
Not really.
Inescapable bubble,
seize our hearts
with fearful mortality.

We wake,
and find our wings
Dismantled.
We fight no more,
against the fleeting time,
no longer binding
our wingless form.

Why does time pass us by?
When It ends we see
all our Time,
spent
on losing time,
instead of finding
Time.



















This is one of the only poems I have ever attempted so it's probably a little unsophisticated, but it kind of captures how I'm feeling right now. Thank you if you read it, I really appreciate it.