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Old at Eighteen
you were old at eighteen
 with a wrinkled face
 and calloused hands
 your blue flannel shirt
 had seen better days.
 you spit philosophy at walls
 because they hear you
 better than your friends
 and you write about love
 but you do not know it yet.
 and you say you're not scared
 of anything at all
 but a broken heart isn't in your
 bucket list and that's why
 you left her.

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