Age of Reason

Is it time to grow up?
If so, I might throw up.
What's expected of me,
Now that the gray is there to see?
My mind still seems so keen,
I still feel like nineteen.
Am I supposed to be all serious,
Act my age, and at youth be furious?
Should my tongue be so very tart,
Now that I've become an old fart?
And, should I always be so tired,
Now that in senility I'm mired?
Or, should I just go as I am
Looking like a mature old man,
But regressing, going backwards in time
And finding so many trees to climb?
Who's to say what is age?
I bow before no known sage.
So, even though I'm always in the dark,
Shouldn't life be something of a lark?
And, even though my day's near done,
There's no reason to end the fun!

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