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I hear the deep rolling growl of my fathers pick up truck pulling into our driveway The plumes of smoke filling the air like an ominous grey cloud of warning.  
Dear Poppop,
-I feel in pain I am losing my thoughts to this strain, Everyone except one is disregarding me because of my brain. My daughters sent me to this place to get me restrained;
Hollow Skin cracked and fading Hair black but greying Unable to get up and move past the craving Of more time and young life
It’s slipping away from me, like sand, Desperately I try to grab the falling sand, but it continues to slip, -Away from my reach,
Now that We have grown old Our faces are like An Ocean of time Waves flowing down I pray to wake up
Imagine the time that you used to be able to remember. You have to imagine, because you can no longer grasp that memory. The feeling of something almost there, torments you.
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