Just a verse filled with words, running across the screen breaking the fine tuning of a busy day, with nothing much of substance to say.
It might be hurriedly read, or remain on the screen instead.
Its verbal nothings this side, while the better half of your world, in work, resides.
It jerks; the futile thought, over a cough so dry and rough, while across the oceans there is work unperturbed.
On the verge of breaking the symphony, that is building up out of my vacuities.
The verge stays unattained, and here you are reading, I presume, my words full of claim.
A ‘claim’ sometimes is all that you need to rest your life upon; it’s all you need to crush the flame of temporary gains.
I live with one such claim; I place it within the lines I frame!
Over five minutes while life drags on, I think to heal all that is gone.
Five minutes of this modest life, are just those few minutes which will evaporate like a deceiving lie.
In the farthest corner of my being, a feeble voice stays in despair to scream, asking for those five minutes where it can create its own scene.
Strange shadows of existence merge together forming nothing but a vague dream that is lived until mortality decides to seal the deal with death beckoning dimly leaving five minutes to pack my belongings.
She renounces her vows and blends with smoke, while she perishes under the debris of her own plight.
One with mud…over measly five minutes!
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