I used to be better at holding them back,
The noises and voices alive in my head.
Forty-eight years spent blocking the door,
But they keep coming back, wanting more and then more.
Time is my nemesis as I grow older.
I weaken, they strengthen, are bolder and bolder.
Louder and prouder, they force their way in.
Forty-eight years --- now I think they may win.
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