Sunspots

Touch my soul, my beard, for appearances only.
I must look 100 years old.
We were kids when everything was
orange and red- the sunspots
creep inside my head.
Sad places that experience yields.

Paranoid of these fleeting moments
Panic at the coasters peak
Subside into a ride that’s free.
Let go of the safety bar,
Youth mired in responsibility.

Just the way I left you here.

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