Sleepless Clamor

Sleepless nights turn to restless days
And the everlasting persistence of time
Makes no exceptions.
Youth’s beauty is its undoing,
As the freedom of the future fades
To the prison of the past,
Faster than our realization that the two
Are an instant away from equivalence.
To live takes precious time that ticks so quickly
As the background noise of existence.
To live fully takes pure acceptance
Of human fate and acknowledgement
That we are far more than that perennial clamor.

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