Our Endless Numbered Days

I wrote this in a daze
In an old soul phase
Out the window she gazed
Her endless numbered days

What is real seems not
A fleeting moment is caught
Existentialist thoughts
Our days cannot be bought

Here we are today
Time means our decay
A passing cloud each day
Yesterdays already gone away

I wrote this in a daze
In an old soul phase
Out the window she gazed
Her endless numbered days
 

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