It withers away with eyes so big it frightens me.
Every chance it gets it runs away and hides from the unseen.
Is this the child in me shied away from the fears of the forgotten ones?
It dwells even in the warmest sunlight with a masquerading touch to my soul.
It wakes every inch of hair on my skin with frailty to my awakening.
As I rest in my thoughts, I will later wake in a bed of flowers with the scent of my youth and the sweet desire of stoicism.
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