My year in review
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While the hours pass the night
With lightly feverish apathy,
I focus weary concentration
On the task that looms precariously.
“Here’s a chance that won’t come twice!”
My freshman teacher promised.
I'm still me, but I'm not the same.
My hair is shorter, my spirit bolder.
I say I'm still me and in a way it is true.
But that doesnt mean,
That it's the "me" that you knew.
