When you haven't made much of your life,
all one can bank on are has beens.
And when your brain chems conspire
to deprive you of large chunks of memory,
you miss the one life you've lived.
May not be too much to talk about...
but that's all you ever have.
All you've got now is
a patchwork of imagery
of the path taken to growing up.
What you don't remember, you don't miss.
What you do remember, sometimes makes you wish..
That the procreative urge,
had a quality assurance filter built into it.
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