FoesA Poem by treets
foes from my past don’t owe me anything
the hands of the clock are my only enemy my dreams are filling the rest is wilting my Love, my Dear, you can’t pull me back it’s a shame our enemy always attacks © 2020 treets |
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Added on February 10, 2020 Last Updated on February 10, 2020 Tags: short poem, time, fighting time |