Running Down

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Who can own him: entropy?
What is said and seen the way that we,
Commit all of this to memory,
Would reflect in what we say.
Times weathering isn’t seen today.
Entropy, disorder, decline, decay,
All too slowly move, we can’t observe.
Tomorrow forgotten, we only self-serve.
It is as much as we deserve.
So we take entropy, our prize.
Every moment we despise,
Each other.
For taking too long to decide.
Which way to go, which path to take:
The way to reverse this,
Or the easy one?
Running out of time,
This decision we must make.

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