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Jun 2014
When I was younger, I painted the sky.
All the blues, wispy whites, blood reds, and yellow-oranges came out of my fingers.
and I believed it was true.
The sky's light now goes out with a sigh of relief.

When I was younger, I laughed.
I laughed so hard the panels of wood in my house caught on fire, glass broke.
Now my laugh is forced and the panels look at me, disappointed, give me a one out of 10.

When I was younger, finite didn't exist.
Nothing was. There was no past tense.
There was no regrets.

When I was younger, I didn't have to fight to speak.
Whenever I opened my mouth, my parents listened with childlike intent.
Now the words I say are only on paper or typed.

When I was younger, I wanted to save people.
To reah out my hand and have it firmly grapsed back.
Now it seems I'm not worth being saved by.

I grew up and regretted it.
Lindee
Written by
Lindee  America
(America)   
331
   Christian Ek
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