Of women. And men.

Black white or gray

The difference is hard to say.

 

With you and me getting so old

How do we live by what’s told.

 

The finishing line’s veiled with the night

The starting line’s gone far out of sight.

 

Young madcaps, impetuous lasses.

A roomful of giggles, laughs, and the clatter of glasses.

 

Black as a dark room, white as a lie

The grand procession of youth loftily passes them by.

 

Their shiny houses of cards

Are tainted with bleeding hearts.

 

Each day they run, shout, and try

To find a day to breathe, find a day to die.

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