my 18th birthday is in a week.
i'm dying so quickly.
i'm dying quicker than everyone else.
what am i going to do
with my last days as a child?
i have no purity, no virtue,
this life so far has had no value.
i want to bathe in cool rainwater, sleep under this layer of snow.
what is this? what are these years?
i don't need a house,
i’ll wish for these minutes back, days you've spent without me at home.
and then one day when you shift out of me, time,
there will be utterly nothing left inside of me.
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