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Changing With Age

My mind is erratic, changing easily with age, the changes seem subtle, but that's not quite the case. I once felt such anger, such pointless, wandering, misguided hate, but now that feels distant, I am far from the same. The world seems a silly place, so many of my grievances seem tiring, I suppose it's not worth it, wasting my days, the fight is important, but who knows who I am when I change? Resignation feels the empty space in my brain, tiredly painted with white and grey, blood coursing through it delaying ruin, but I can feel it coming, and somehow that quiets my rage. I can do a little, and that's what I'll do, make misfits feel normal, if just today, I knew how they felt and can use that, that vague sensation of pain and decay, maybe I'll make something better, work towards making their lenses less opaque, though I can't do much, I'll do it right now, I'll start today.
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Written by
ap-beckstead
American
Published
Jul 18, 2016
Lines·Words
36·164
Notes

A.P. Beckstead (2016)

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