in the emptyness of words..
at the silence of sound..
time keeps ticking,
moving forward pushing us to move with it..
no one could escape the wrath of time..
as seconds hit u one at a time
so we receive the longitude of its wave
in the bear mark of question..
as the unanswered remains
it will always be the way it is,
slicing parcial parts piece by piece
from second to aeon...
from past, present, thru future...
it is reversible,
it is unstopable,
it is what it is supposed to be...
waiting in fray sentences...
empty shelf...
hollow heart...
it is torturing our mind...
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