Clock

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The mind fills in the gaps
for these intangible dreams,
flying away in the remnants
of these inconspicuous grasps.

With hatred and love merged in one,
we pray to save the betrayer
obliterating their name into inexistence.

Only in shards of the unknown,
prayers become a feast for the guilt
averting the truth we feed to the hurt,
the pouring scorn is our abode.

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