Life is like a window.
As you grow the scenery becomes dim.
But as a child the window is clear.
You can see you every wim.
To a child, the scenery seems
So bright and full of life.
Never seen a winter's snow,
Or the cruel world full of strife.
To a teenager, the window opens
To lead to new excitement.
You wander through life without a care
of where you go or where you went.
To an adult, the window starts to dim
And the dust on the glass starts to build.
You cling to the things you've gained
And lose the purity with which you were filled.
And To the elderly, the windows too fogged to see.
Covered with the dust of of the tings you do.
Then god casts the stone through your window,
To make room foe the new.
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