the piano pulses,
guitar twangs,
the world around me lets itself
become enveloped in the music of eras ago.
my heart races,
mind sings,
i think about the life head and
know that three years from now i'll be born anew.
what lies beyond?
cliché inquiries are just so right,
because all i can come up with is
the archetypal wistfulness of sixteen years of dreaming.
and you know
what?
it's alright.
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