A beggar wearing them,
Ignoring riches sitting at your feet,
At your own detriment,
Clinging, instead, to a past long gone by,
Erasing the present,
Time is a product of mind's perception,
We organize our sensations on it,
Wrap up what you have already been through,
Let the sleeping dogs lie,
When woken, you must feed and care for them,
Life is passing you by.
Or maybe not,
P'haps the past's what you want,
There's a certain allure to suffering,
That happiness don't allow you to flaunt.
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