I had an old heart before
it had a chance to be young;
I knew before it happened
what it felt like
to look down the barrel of a gun,
the trigger clenched
by the hands of a ticking clock,
and when the shot rang out,
I saw my young heart bleed out
with my old, old eyes
and watched my young heart
die,
and mourning for it,
I spend my time
avoiding what it remembered
terrified to forget.
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