I walk past kids that I use to be. I stare at them, and them back at me. I sighed their sigh, cried their tears and thought their thoughts.
I walked in their shoes and trousers. Dyed and cut my hair just like theirs.
In that moment I look at my past and they at their future. I use to be them, and they will be me.
Myself, two decades old, different hair, different soul.
Maturity along with austerity. Youth without experience.
Images of what I use to be, images of their future me.
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