An Older Childhood

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At an age of 80,
My boyhood is back,
Unleashed from duties,
Divorced with stress.

Heart craves for junk,
Playing with kids seems fun,
Mind innocently thinks,
And I often forget my things.

I weep a lot,
Sometimes without a rhyme, or on a random thought.
I laugh intensely,
Even try to interpret serious things humorously.

I love being surrounded,
Suddenly an extrovert I have become,
Loneliness scares me,
The more, the merri-er.

I want my mother every second,
Just I can’t have her,
But on every dear diary moment,
I wish I was with her.

I get sick easily,
I need utmost care,
I wish to rise up,
Even with a body in despair.

But instead of ground, Words leave me wounded.
Running is a tough job,
Relaxing is fun,
The end is near, a beginning isn’t.

Traits match,
The body doesn’t.
I guess I am too old
to be young.



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