The air, is cold, and the light, is so, bright, and I can't help but begin screaming...

The voice, bellows, hello, it shows, a picture of my preconceived scheming...

I'm young, and new, and introduced, to the world I venture alone.

Adolescent, and ever present, is the dread of the rest of my woes.

I'm middle aged, and underpaid, and I work my hands to the bone.

I'm old, and sad, and weak, and glad, my life is coming to a close.

I'm in, the ground, and all, the sounds, of silence are set in stone.

And then I'm up again... Breathing the sweet air I don't remember, breathing, all that time ago.

And then I understand... But not really understanding at all, the new person, I think that I now am.

And it happens again... And again and again... Untill I die and my void is white and pulsing... And I see the final fate, the precipice of proclamation... And I cry out as I see memories of all of my different worlds.

It's all, a blur, a fast, brochure, of cliffnotes that describe all my actions...

I'm real, unsure, and I feel, disturbed, to think about all possible reactions...

And the lights go back out.