Past is becoming heavy
collecting the moments that fall
from the swinging pendulums of
ticking clocks,
like puffs of white cotton do
when getting soaked
under the drizzle
of monsoon days.
It is becoming hard
carrying the past around
on aching shoulders
trying to live a day
as just a day.
It is time to get into
the attics of my mind, and
Marie-Konding my past.
It is time to lighten up
some burdens
and be free again.
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