Trying to wrap my mind around
Ideas of who I’ll be
Next year, how I’ll change and become
far “better” than I’ve ever been.
But what is “better”?
Now, as I dissect it, it’s only a word.
An arid declaration-
A dry combination of letters
left to rot under the Phoenix sun,
Dead and worthless.
I search its tomb for something else to
base myself upon.
And realize-the very powder of my worth

Is bare.

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