Where will it go?

Date

Block. Brick. Block.

Where will it go? Where does this flow?

Clock. Tick. Clock.

When it all happens too much, all at once.

To sit and to watch the world go by, and to never truly know why.

Knock. Kick. Knock.

I feel a pull.

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Lost Years.

The world awaits – arms wide open; as will I, ever broken.

Voice.

A sound, a voice, three voices, knock.