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This Old Joint

03 Jul

I fell, a scar appeared. Clumsy, of course I fell again… and again. Each scar a telling story, watch the years stack. Give me my weary muscles. They serve me well. Like ancient oaks, these legs stand rooted below me. Each scuff, every mark… a victory.

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Posted by on July 3, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

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