And then you realize at thirty
That you may have already so
Breathed out half of every breath
You would be given in this transient life
Choosing to run will speed the flow
Yet standing in place won't pause time
You have this plan, this pace, this rhythym
For not growing older, We would hear it now
The passing exhalations of morning coffee
While you were trying to remember your task
Shoes tied and out into the spinning madness again
Already a quarter of today's breaths gone like the wind
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