When I get old
When I’m old
No more uncertainties about my existence
No more painful memories to penetrate the foundation of my spirit
No more self-hatred or damnations to my soul
When I’m old
The shards of my shattered self-worth will no longer mutilate my love for life
No more drowning in the epitomy of my sorrows
No more being trapped in the dismal abyss of my adolescent mind
When I’m old
No more angst over worries that aren’t my own
No more pinning over the habitual stereotype I was forced into
No more facades to satisfy the hypercritical world
No more confusion to cloud my disposition on life
When I’m old
It will be a time to indulge in my secret wants and whims
A time to be released from the incarceration of my thoughts
And most of all a time to forgive, forget, and set ancient grudges free
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