Slipping Through my Fingers

Sand trickles down through the neck
Between the two bulbs of my hourglass;
The Cup of Yesterday is filling fast

Every second more sand becomes trapped
Within the mound that belongs to the Past;
Too many years have come to pass

What happened to youthful dreams?
Before Time was my greatest enemy,
When the Cup of Tomorrow was still full

The world works so hard, it seems,
To make a fool out of me;
My hourglass counts down to null

The sand of my Time, it is spent

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