Age does not define me, just maps where I've been
Like an abacus it shows old numbers
The ups and the downs, from the past to where to begin
my road narrows to this point
I must pick up the pencil as I feel my left hand right
Old throughs, new ideas; a voice found where there once was fear
New paths, include bridges, draw from this life whatever you want.
My hand nears the shutter
Pick
The sound of the shutter
Click
Looking glass through the shutter
Tick
Gather thoughts from my shattered reflections
shards of the old me mix with the one I want to be
Do not distort the truth, abstract it
we steal what we fail to teach
