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Life expectancy studies where nostalgic.
And my love for her cropped-up t-shirt
Was a damp squib.
My mistress towered over me like;
She was a lighthouse.
Like when I stood still while;
Infant mortalities, teenage pregnancies
Raised men’s heart rates.
Conversations that soared divisions
Amongst those who knew much than I had;
As a charmer without a thing;
Other than a dozen weaves I plucked
Off women’s heads.
Thinking no mid-life crisis
Shall make me bald like cancer.
Because when the time is gone;
And a man’s body had become pale
He wouldn’t be able
To reach farther than his doorway.
A far cry to when his sharp eyes,
Used to pierced through women’s skirt
And made them fall in love with him at one go.
Save to say through his fingers snap;
A gender reversal
Conundrum known by few.
Today I’m lying in my deathbed;
Merrily, and still.
Than sadly having to look back,
Fighting back tears over lost memories,
Sometimes love hurts the beloved;
Men and women who accidentally fall,
Young boys and girls curious to know.
A baby cries then stretches its arms at birth,
Elders rejoice but cries at death.
And only the dead knows.
Why crows cry at night and
Why cats see only at night time.
Why men fear women with money?
Only bald men on rocking chairs knows;
The good old days, names of babies rocked in cradles.

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