Time, sometimes generous, sometimes in a very stingy manner. At the moment time is very stingy, selfish. He's taking away everything that's good. I've been seeing good luck.
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Days passed. Time has gone. Changing the leaves of each time the leaves of the leaves showed me the most painful. It takes time, whatever happens to my heart. And cruel. It's cruel, because it's a bit of a jerk, whatever's hidden in my self.
When my self is going, I get caught up in the ruthlessness of the time, what's left of it, what I don't understand, and I come across an understanding. Those who understand have run out with time. You know, it's not like you're out of life. Little by little, the piece is running out.
I don't even understand how it's been gone. Because I'm busy with what they consume before. I deal with their pain, question their absence. It never ends. The numbers are only increasing before you get the answer. Time, the answers rather than passing the questions, the way they took me away, it does not help me, it is useful for time.
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Whatever's good is taking time away from me. Is that the brutality of time? I guess not. It's not ruthless. That's the way it's going: It's the only way to go.
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