the numbers don’t matter really
though they keep piling up
like leaves below trees in four months
summer will be all over
my head there are no clouds
scattered in the sky
answers to all my questions
with a clank stare
into these eyes at night
wishing for morning to come back again
with new and brighter sunshine
blinding even when it isn’t warm out
when it should be by now
maybe these thoughts are psychotic
an episode seen many times
standing still
just another day
a reminder that none of us
get any younger…
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