Spitting on my hands I pick up my courage and face the dawning day.
No-one told me it would be like this,
This feeling of powerlessness,
The lack of control.
Today someone gave up their seat for me on a bus.
Why? Does my fragility show?
I am no different to yesterday,
When I was young.
When I am old and wiser, and worthy of respect
When my hair and skin are grey
These changes creeping quietly
Will mask my still young heart.
In my head I'll hear rock music roaring
Drowning out the years
While my smile belies the tartness of my tongue and
Poison wit.
Remember, we do not really change with age
We just grow older.
We just grow
We just
We
Die.