Time does not fade away,
It is us the ones that walk away.
Us, the ones broken inside,
The ones without a need of a guide.
They are sons of spring,
We are the sons of winter; no string,
Only connected to the snow and stars,
For time is ours.
Sorrow and cold made us,
Gave shape to our cuts.
Indeed, it helped our heart to become gold,
But even gold turns old.
So now we fade away,
Us, the keepers of time; enjoy a new cliché
Copyright © 2017 Manuel Osornio-emotionsoflife2016
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