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. . . Some things, it seems, will never change The clock ticks away.. its endless rage, Seasons turning, skies seeping gray, The same old dance of night yielding to day We invest our hopes like seeds in the dirt, Dreams they grow thorns, those hopes then hurt We say ?tomorrow, things will shape and shift,? Yet we feel no breeze.. no spark, no lift The cities cry the same sad song, Pavements worn from walking long Faces blur, all worn and aged, Uniquity and discovery long are caged I grab at the stars, for anything bright, But find my hands then full of night Change they say is life's oldest friend Yet here we are with tiny wishes penned Perhaps it is fate or fears tight bind.. Or just the inevitable truth within our minds Some things, it seems, are just going to stay. <b>Theoden King /> | |