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Rated: E · Poetry · Opinion · #1616249
A wee bit of venting I knocked out after a less than inspiring conversation.
A Bitter Old Man

Anger as soon as fed is dead, 'tis starving makes it fat. Emily Dickenson

Why yes old man, I hear your words,
and I know to you I seem absurd.

I know you think you know the game,
and I know you think I'm guessing its name.

But sometimes life moves in strange ways,
and it's never just quite like the old days.

What is the point of aiming low?
Explain to me, 'cause I don't know.

For some they hope, they try and fail,
but sometimes, some of us prevail.

So when you talk to me of my limitations,
all I hear is your age-old frustrations.

I know it's never quite as good as we hope,
but to kill aspirations just to help you cope,
with all you never achieved yourself,
makes me think,
just maybe,
you belong on the shelf.
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