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July 10, 2017 | Bozena Kupka

Link for Book

Time is silent,
Too silent.
Sometimes I wish time would come as loud as a thunder,
Waking me up in the middle oft the night,
Shaking me wildly,
Covered as a nightmare.
Unveilig its butcherly face.

One day time is over.
Do we understand this?
Where is my time right now?
Is this my breath?
Inhale, exhale…gone.
Time is an insidious player,
Voiceless imposter,
Giving me sweet sense of security.

Like an invisible shadow,
it follows me everywhere,
Trapping me with fake comfort.
What if time becomes a voice?
Would it shout at me?
What if time becomes a shape?
Would it scare me?
And do watches change anything?

Is time real
Only when it`s over?

KissaKriti | Time
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