Lament

I am a child I am

the most reviled, weird kind;

an obscenity

a freak of nature

a monstrosity, a deception

a no-no, don’t and mustn’t;

a body of sin.

.

I am a child I am.

A touch of withering skin

and nicotine stained cry;

a young brain

full of dead cells;

a sackful of aged bones

of tired sperm

and –dreadful of a child– stories!

.

I am a child with a past

but no future.

I am a child I am

of fifty years of age.

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