Out Of Mind - Poem by Edwina Reizer
We die a little bit every day
but never start to mourn.
We're so intent on all the living
that we do from when we're born.
But life is a fleeting second that ticks
and mourning is too sad.
So we meet the future forgetting the tick
that will stop the life we've had.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You