somehow, somewhat mine

my head is an hourglass
and when i stand, the
sand runs across my lips
and sticks to my eyelids
all i see are the tiny grains
of time, the seconds and minutes
climbing up and out of the past
and into the future, now
in this moment – which has just now
passed – yet somehow
it was somewhat mine

___
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: grit

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