War of time

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(Edited)

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Wrinkles on an ancient skin
Her hair tells her story
It's as white as a sea bleached shell.

Her bent back cries of tiredness
Like a wind defeated palm tree
Her own body weighs her down

Mock not her forgetful mind
Nor laugh at her staggering body
For it fought the war of time.

Spit not at her pale cracking skin
For it is both a curse and blessing
And all things mortal must fade.

Does the thought make you nervous?
For what you are she was
And what she is you will be.

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Thank you for reading.

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Nice thought. Age is beauty

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Nice poem - aging is inevitable and another beautiful phase.

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Never really thought of growing old into the pale skin phase, now that I'm thinking about it I'm nervous lol. Just hope I've done all I was called to do before then. This was insightful. Cheers.

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