I'm twenty and aging
Yet these little devils
Still swim from my temples
To my nervous palms
For several lifetimes I fear
The curtains might fall
From the sunshine;
It shows I'm broken,
Most were songs while
I was a missing verse
Yesterdays were better
They were familiar, see
Now and tomorrows
Are just plain cruelty
This is my slow death
I'm a daily, floral eulogy
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