POEM: Time’s Arrow

Precognition?

I barely have post-cognition —
which is to say, memory.

I have memories of memories of a world that never was.

Cobbled together hopes, dreams, and fears made into a montage of me.

One could chip away at what never was, but I’m not sure reality could support it’s own weight.

What was might end up a toxic rubble, steaming away into nothingness.

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