Growing Up

It’s a power

Of comprehension

The lowly feeling of age.

Getting old is a line

A line of steady discovery

 

First, it’s the listening

Then it’s the babbling

Then it’s the screaming

Then it’s laughing

Then it’s talking

Then it’s the mumbling

And then it’s eternal sleeping

Sometime, it’s back to the screaming

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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