I saw this lady who looked really old. She was struggling,
but she was out in bad weather taking care of business. She was shaky and
looked as fragile as porcelain. She made me think about my own life; times when
I complain about being stiff, or having to take all those damn pills. Looking
at her, I felt embarrassed to even think I had it bad. Poor me needed to ask
her how her life was, how it had been when she was young. The things she had
seen. About people she has loved and been loved by. Poor me didn’t have the
time to do it, and I cheated my existence because of it.
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