Second rings place flew going

A second hand
stuck in place
reflects the opposite of a warning —
time isn’t moving.
It’s stuck.
Nothing going
No growing, changing, losing.
“Time flew?”
No, but the frozen moments
stuck to you.
Stuck tacky like glue.

A place you couldn’t forget.
Losses you wouldn’t cut.
Rings you rung around your neck
like wringing hands
Wrung out laundry.
The sun + stagnant air
wouldn’t dry it.

Where do you think you’re going?
Nowhere but here.
The same old goddamn place,
year after year.
Until you’re old enough
to know it’s too late.

Second chances and racy romances
flash like mirages.
And what’s left over
is stale left-oers
no-one’s gonna eat.

It’s too late.
No take backs, right?

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