shall i burn what i've written
all the minutes spent
cramping hand
furrowed brow
pensive
engulfed in flame
ashes blown
winds of time
why hold on to moments
past
all is passing
us
them
my creations
you
transient
is there worth in words
and even if
would i that you read them
rather release them
from their prison pages
into oblivion
non-existence
of yesterday
yes. yesss
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