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Poems

On The Verge

I'm on on the verge of forgetting
what it’s like to be young. 

I remember having more beliefs than doubts,
being untouched by scepticism,
living for courage rather than escapism.

I remember trusting people to stay illogical,
as if life was plainly intelligible,
as if doors would open whenever I needed them.

And now… I’m on the verge of forgetting what it’s like to be young.

When did my own age devour me?
How did I grow into someone so painfully comprehensible?
When did I become someone even I can predict?

Once a week, I write about the strange business of being human. No hacks, no hype, no magic formulas. Just the thoughts we’re usually quiet about.

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