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Their Little Demons played with mine

In the time that was before this Now.

They taught me tricks,

They sold me lies-

It wasn’t a secret;

They wanted me gone.

The transition was disaster.

In the warm Spring-Summer mist

I packed,

I left,

I said goodbye-

And walked away

With the shards of my soul.

I began again.

In this Beginning,

I met new people-

Men with foolish tongues

And sour lips-

Women who cared

And inspired.

Then, there was me.

Growing up quickly under their watchful eyes;

Creating a space for myself

In each of their compassionate hearts,

I teach no tricks

I sell no lies.

But now the Spring-Summer rain

Has come again.

They’ll pack,

They’ll leave,

They’ll say goodbye-

Breaking, once more,

My soul into shards.

They will all begin again.

And though this Time-

This Now-

Is not tangible,

I hold it in my heart.

And what this Time means to me;

What it has taught me,

Is that everyone leaves at some point,

And that Time itself

Is comprised of the Now.

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