adulthood: A Poem

 none of us really grow up
 for most of us
 our spirits break
 we are the ones who grow bitter
 for some of us
 our spirits stay intact 
 we are the young at heart
 and even less of us
 were born broken
 we are the old souls
 but we are all the same
 for to dirt we will return
 at the end of time 

Photo by Allan Mas on

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