Worn to a Shadow

Are we not like a razor blade?
Sharp at first, but soon turning blunt
That’s a wistful observation made
Growth nothing more than a stunt

Now we can’t take the rough-and-tumble
Bones, nerves have begun to crack
Life has a way to make us humble
Showing us all the things we lack

Is there something we need to stretch?
Our imagination or our will?
Hard to see when out of touch
All the while we galloped downhill

I suppose that’s the end of my beef
Not a tale of milk and honey
Sooner or later, we come to grief
And where we go, we can’t take our money


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