Tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow
Days shoot by at a jet speed
Rushing towards the last syllable
Of unrecorded time.
And all our yesterdays
Have been carelessly tossed away
Into the rusty dust can in the corner.
Out, out, leisure and rest.
Life's but a challenging game
Where fighters jostle for
A little sheltering space
Unaware that it will end abruptly.
It is a tale told by unfeeling
False fathers in authority
Full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
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