The damn space.

This damn space that is provided by time

Is uniquely boring, subtly breakable as it concedes in life

Something remarkable makes this space

A terrible feeling of owning, disowning, price and theft

Watch the space – they say

Trust the wait and add a pray

Neither the space gets a makeover

Nor the endless smiling face

It just remains a broken machine far from even willing to race

The clock ticks

The days go

Months pass and years flow

The space never gets filled

Playing the wait game just gets skilled.

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