36 Poem… A WIP

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Incomplete with a child’s heart
The mind of a man. The body of youth
Withers away while the others stays the same
Or do they change? With time?
What actually does age? The physical?
The abstract. What it is, what it could be
What it wants to be, shaped by the impossible
Created by selfishness. The I.
Matures into need. Grows into a we
But prunes itself into a me.
Self is not alone, neither does it want to be
It aims to achieve more than me, hence the growth into
A we. So, the physical has changed, so has the tools
To think of the abstract matured and rearranged.
It will do so until solace is found
This is how a work in progress is pronounced

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