You meant it to be the past,
It’s not supposed to
collide with my present,
The crunching tyres
of the big armored vehicle
(raising sands of guilt, anger and embarrassment)
shouldn't ram into my present’s lurching cart,
But they do,
Seems like you remotely
operate this rampager
to take further revenge
and turn the past into
a grotesque wreckage.
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