I'm like a backward berry, Unripened on the vine, For all my friends are fifty, And I'm only forty-nine.
Do you think my mind is maturing late, or simply rotted early?
People expect old men to die, They do not really mourn old men. Old men are different. People look At them with eyes that wonder when ... People watch with unshocked eyes; But the old men know when an old man dies.
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