skin racing like an ant farm
in the little digital hand mirror
accidental simulation
of maybe something close
to how much really goes on
potential to blush, flush
in red painted bands that holler
you’re drunk!
before I feel it
am I old, am I young
do I care
gutted by loss
of youth and you
I was sad, falling on loop
and it kept not being right
leaving fights to splash
water on my face
trying to cool towards
laughing, posing
secrets barely
back
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