Bri Mar


'' My Life Is Bliss ''

As I sit here dithering, I think I'm getting old,
My bones are aching my hands are cold,
It's making me bitter why should this be,
I truly feel that I'm no longer me.

You mature with age is what they say,
You start to shrink and your hair turns grey,
Surely this is not what they meant,
If that's what they say then their morals are bent.

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