Weight Of Time

Poem By first comet

Why is it that hours make my shoulders tense?
Why is it that dealines make my schedule condense?
I think time is heavy and it makes sense!

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It was twenty of us or maybe more.
When we arrived at the shore,
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But soon as the frisbees began to soar,


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There is nothing magical here
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Should I say something? Anything?
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Divided by a fine line to the left and right,
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Fight to the end of time; the time was tight,