I am unlike myself.
I am lashing and reeling and falling
away from who I was.
I am growing older, slowly,
but is this the kind of growing I want?
am I fated to grow tired
and ragged and torn and hollow?
am I fated to be that of what
you find on the shores inthe early morning?
am I fated to follow the place of
nothingness?
am I really as bad as I seem?
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