Reflections of my self.
An alter ego,
Or lack there of.
My id.
My ego.
My self.
Or is it not my self,
But someone else?
Me, in a different light?
Harsher.
Reality.
With age comes wisdom,
Cynicism,
Sarcasm,
And winds of change.
Like aged wine,
Yet not refined,
Just more distinctively potent.
A flavor to Savior.
Rinse.Spit.
And let the ambiance linger.
Summer blows by
As winter begins.
Transitions are for losers.
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