Currency of My Own Time

The little forgotten things

Moments passing 

Fleeting and free

Tied down now to the eternity

Of passing

Time flickering quietly 

Not kicking and thrashing

It’s the unknown riddle

I attempt to make the most of the moments

Fleeting moments

I should have known this

That in the tiny cracks of uncertainty 

Can take down the curtain 

Of flow of currency

I attempt at words construed and written

For the hopes of my own improvement

So in exchange of time 

Not perfection of pursuit

But the pursuit of something new


For you


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