My Poetry, Personal Experience

Getting OLD, Feeling OLDER : A Young Man’s Ode

Uncle, do you have five bucks change?” asked the girl sitting at the desk of the courier office. At this juncture, I didn’t even want to correct her. This signifies the amount of time I have spent being fed up of hearing people addressing me as an elderly. And besides, why wouldn’t they call me uncle? I am 24 years OLD.

An Ode To Age

Age is a unique number
Insignificantly significant
No matter how dumb you are
You are smart if you are old

If you do what you are supposed to
You are clichéd, the boss
If you do what you are not supposed to
You are innovative, the employee

Age is that joint you roll
But don’t want to smoke
It is that thing you swallow
But on it deny to choke

So what if I look like that
Look all loose, look that fat
For the last time, I’m no old woman
This is just my man-rack

Yes, I am an overgrown child
I snap at things, crap on strings
I know it all but still ask questions
I guess I need you, may be just for answers

So, tens are to whine and cry
Twenties are to do or die
Thirties are to kill and chill
Forties are to worry and shrill
Fifties are to propagate faith
Sixties are to deprave self-swathe
Seventies are to peeve all minds
Eighties are to reweave mankind

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