Untitled
By: Litefoot
March 9, 2001

The seconds to minutes
The minutes to hours
The hours to days
The days to months
and the months to years.
Soon a lifetime is wasted.
The past is bleak and the future holds no hope.
A bad childhood leads to an old man
that whiles away the time playing solitare and dreaming
of what could have been.
Of what should have been.
But will never be.
A person so filled with love for everything except life itself.
What a shame.
What a waste.

Always A Way Home

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