On my windowsill
time stands still.Day dies and flies
away, for miles
from me.
A broken dream is done,
and would never become one.
In every piece and shatter,
the whole doesn't matter
anymore.
If i could choose and fight
against the time tonight,
and take an early flight.
All right. And then I might
be happy.
My sadness melts to lake.
The depth is all I take
from my time lapse
of the life left
on my windowsill.
21.06.21
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