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If time is of the essence,
there is not enough.
I look for more but it never comes.
How is it,
time goes on and on?
It forever goes,
but never is there enough.
I lay,
every night.
Time goes slowly.
Where does it go?
Slowly it leaves,
I watch quietly,
for what is not enough,
will always be time.
Stop the clock.
Turn back the hands.
Still.
Time always passing.
So now to think.
To ponder thy thoughts.
Not so briefly ago,
things were very different.
But who to blame?
Other than time.
Lukeja Wnukowski, as a young writer, wanted to take the opportunity to finally submit his poems somewhere. He is only 16 but has been writing since he could spell.
'Writing is my way of leaving the world and entering my idea of perfection, and a beautiful way to express my emotions. This poem is one of the many poems and song lyrics I have. I started writing to help pursue my music career, and it led into a whole world of creativity and art. This poem was inspired by E.E. Cummings writing style.'