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Poetry By: moonphish

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Submitted:Oct 11, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 5    Likes: 1   

some fret about the next day

when the present one's still ripe
their hand upon their prison's wall
to chalk another stripe
the clock hands that are raised in fear
just means the next day's due
don't stew about the future
it has not a care for you
the gypsy woman calls to you
to share her crystal ball
but crystal is transparent
so there's nothing there at all
but yet some will believe her
as she speaks of distant years
you cannot tell the future
for the future has no ears
one can always make predictions
of the times arriving soon
the clock that chimes at midnight
sounds just like the one at noon
but nothing bares tomorrow
it is naked to the eye
what's lying in the future ?
why, its only one big lie


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