..
Time passes. even when it seems impossible.
When each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise.
It passes unevenly in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.
Even for me.
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Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what i've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great and would suffice.