Lost Touch
Isn't it funny as we age,
our troubles become obsolete
what we thought was rage,
is now merely a stage in a retreat
I've lost touch with myself-
a younger version-
unaware and oblivious
with a step back
I see the bigger picture
we are all temporary beings
in an infinite universe
filled with cosmos and stars which collapse at their deaths
yet we run around complaining
in agitation, frustration
sometimes in collaboration
with our silliest fears-
if only I could know then what I know now
and laugh at my younger adolescent self
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