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10 shares, 45 points

I don’t remember stories to tell you, son,
Time ate up what’s inside me.
Wrinkles clutched its fists into me
Now I am weak,
Weak to tell you a story, son.

Old man bronbi

My eye’s lost it’s light forever son
I am losing what this life has offered me.
My memories are what they tell me
Now I am puppetry to them, son.

Now my eyes are wide
As if I am begging for something.
Wishing and bidding happiness,
And seeking the end, son
I don’t have stories to tell you, Son


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