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Me And Time

The Unnecessary Line

By Moon DesertPublished 5 months ago Updated 9 days ago 1 min read
Top Story - October 2025
Photo by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash

I want to keep

all memories flashed in the middle of doing something else.

They should guide me,

not the ones shouting their rights

in the blast of daylight.

Waiting for someone who won’t arrive.

But then, something else appears instead.

(It’s been fun adding those lines.)

Scratching the dog's back,

while he offers you a paw.

A few days later, someone tried to get rid of him.

My dad, without a word.

The next day, the dog came back.

He ran straight into my arms,

walking proudly down his street.

Unafraid, my hero in a white cape.

*

Next, a second flash arrives,

erasing the initial memory into dust.

We're wiser now; no one can deceive us.

Everyone acts as if nothing had occurred.

I was both present and absent,

observing the instinctive boundary pushes.

Nothing felt right, and though things seemed bleak,

I felt a strange triumph, knowing I was true.

Someone was wrong, and we couldn't speak.

Important words lost; danger imbued.

Someone had rallied others, twisted facts.

I don't care; the truth will soon purify

all tight minds.

When everything is clear, in perfect acts,

and no false accusations seal the fate at dawn.

*

Suspended between now and then,

I steel myself for the last act,

gathering fragmented memories, kaleidoscopic,

permanently etched within my mind.

I toil relentlessly during harvest;

time is my sole companion.

We struggle across the land, scorched by heat,

unbound, trapped in an infernal cycle.

We're two prisoners on the road.

Lonely travellers on the right path.

We don't ask for much, just a few coins and words,

keeping them close to our hearts.

Someday we'll tell you everything

and it will all be worthwhile.

We gather our things

and walk towards the sun.

Our past shrinks to a cloud in the sky,

and when it rains, it's gone.

All the hard lines

become so easy to write.

Light as a feather, harmless,

no locusts to bring us down.

Only kind words will spread,

informing those who need to know.

This is all there is.

inspirationalnature poetrysad poetrysocial commentaryStream of Consciousnesssurreal poetryheartbreak

About the Creator

Moon Desert

UK-based

BA in Cultural Studies

Unsplash

Crime Fiction: Love

Poetry: Friend

Psychology: Salvation

Where wild roses grow full of words...

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

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  • Mother Combs5 months ago

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