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Rated: E · Poetry · None · #2331217
a poem about living a life
All Spent

Look down and look away.
Don’t know what I believe.
It feels all wrong inside.
Looks really good to me.

This gets me in trouble.
All the surface glitter.
Don’t know anything else.
Always picking litter.

Lasts one minute or two.
Never quite long enough.
I keep bending over.
But I can’t pick it up.

Shame on me for trying.
Playing a young man’s game.
Neither a man nor young.
Yet, always ends the same.

Beauty in a casket.
Is that really a goal?
It sounds really stupid.
The years do take their toll.

I look to be all spent.
Wrinkles and crippled bones.
Life completely given.
At home, here in my home.
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