Time
Yesterday will always grow.My memories will spoil, exposed too long to what I never witnessed.Failure swells, Regret now inscribes my hearts scripture.Today was a minute ago, raw and clumsy As it walks with me.This second now will feed me my next,And my previous feeder, now dead and digested, Can nourish the thoughts for tonight.Tomorrow, on loan from my hopeful mind, Is yet another memory. Hollow and intangible, this untouched PhantomWill mock this minute with its perverse eyes, And invite my mind to dwell on yesterday yet again.This poem was originally titled, 'Untitled to Time'. I was attempting to edit it and shed the 'Untitlted to...' prefix, as I was going to do to all my poems with said prefix. Well, I failed. So here's an old body in new skin, so to speak. Written October 21st, 2001 © on Oct 21 2001 12:07 PM PST 10 • 0
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"Yesterday will always grow.My memories will spoil, exposed too long to what I never witnessed.Failure swells, Regret now inscribes my hearts scripture.Today was a minute ago, raw and clumsy As it walks with me.This second now will feed me my next,And my previous feeder, now dead and digested, Can nourish the thoughts for tonight.Tomorrow, on loan from my hopeful mind, Is yet another memory. Hollow and intangible, this untouched PhantomWill mock this minute with its perverse eyes, And invite my mind to dwell on yesterday yet again.This poem was originally titled, 'Untitled to Time'. I was attempting to edit it and shed the 'Untitlted to...' prefix, as I was going to do to all my poems with said prefix. Well, I failed. So here's an old body in new skin, so to speak...."