How much is left for morrow?
That day never comes, you know,
you look ahead it looks narrow,
We're but plethora of tales, much ado,
We break the ice of the day by 'years ago'
What's left of your build?
A skinny edifice of bones with no marrow,
A mind that thickens but doesn't grow
A tongue raving around the clock just to show,
You think or you think not,
You exist not outside your words 'n shadow,
Topic(s) of this poem: words
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