finite

is love finite? and is it spent?
sometimes it feels like our life is bent
and crossed
only for us to be oblivious and lost.
is our world finite? and is it spent?
it’s like my life is lived on borrowed time and lent,
and i keep trying to make small dents,
and all i get instead are
smiles that are lost,
arms that are crossed,
incredible losses and cost.

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