This year I’m turning fifty-five
An age I thought I’d hate
There’s hardly time that’s left to thrive
To change now seems too late
Like dyeing hair and pulling skin
Let Spanx cut off my breath
Grieving ‘bout the shape we’re in
(I’d rather hasten death…)
We live in youth-obsessed enclaves
We filter imperfections
Pretending that we’re all so brave
Ignoring aged reflections
But I stand firm to fight the cause
And I will do so loudly
Praise my foibles and my flaws
Like scars I’ve earned quite proudly
I’m barely at the summit now
There’s still much left to climb
To reach the peak, we don’t know how
Who cares! We still have time!
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