Five to five.
Twelve more and it's back.
An endless circle,
A fathomless trap.
No one escapes,
And no one can change.
It cannot be hindered,
But always is blamed.
More powerful than nature,
Yet can be so small.
A hope or a wonder,
A trip or a fall.
Forever embedded,
In walls and in stone.
Incarcerated fully,
One steady tone.
It will keep on going,
It cannot be killed.
Like grass always growing,
On top of a hill.
I ask you what is this?
This odd sense of...
What?
The hands going round,
They never will stop.
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