I am old
Older than ever
I have always been this age
The lines around my eyes are new
The lines on my forehead are not
They’ve been with me since I was a child
Age doesn’t come sequentially
Life is not always linear
One day we are old
The next we were just born
Days, months, years blend into one experience
I am sorry for my flaws
No one else can carry that blame
The bushel I carry is mine
Mine alone
And I am sorry
For too many things
I hate you and am sorry at the same time
You deserve nothing less that hatred but it’s not your fault either
You didn’t mean to be born a sociopath
Biology can be a vicious mistress
My lines tell a story but it’s not mine
It’s ours
My flaws remain mine
My successes belong to everyone
These gifts I carry are only for you.
