Mirrors tarnish on the wall,
Times will change,
And leaves will fall.
Dust will fade away the seasons,
Faults of age brought up for treason
Steals the fire from the embers,
As summers pass into Septembers.
Chimes from final fatal clocks,
Claim your youth
And turn the locks.
I'm turning 20 this week. That's completely unrelated to this poem but I thought it was ironic in a I-pulled-this-out-of-my-binder-at-the-last-minute sort of way.
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