How to mature (pt 2)

Watch strangers
at the bus station
in the mornings

and on the sidwalks
and park benches.

Their faces are
hard
carved out of heartache
and aging
and broken homes;
cracked palms.

When they come for you,
let them take your bones,
spine

let wind and time
carve sorrow into your skin

remain much too soft
for a concrete world

too much ocean
for a land without sea

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