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The Time Machine
The words slip out
of reach,
confused,
misunderstood.
They erupt in flames.
Gray like invisible ghosts,
lifting the veils of
your heart.
So I can see through
the demon mask
plastered on my face.
See the pain
so tangible
that I could swallow it
like silver moonlight
staining the Black Sea.
Or is it the other way around?
Are my tears just a part
of the Earth, the pencil, paper?
If only I had
a time machine.
So I could erase
the memory from your heart.
But wouldn't it stick in
my gut
like chewing gum?
Each moment on replay
till now is nonexistent
and I am but a fountain
of eternal tears.
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