by Nick Gisburne
These are the wrinkles I want you to see
Lines in a painting, the passage of time
Cracked and imperfect, but all of it me
Here is the proof of my journey, my climb
Age is not shameful, nor cause for regret
I am the product of all I have been
Nothing has shattered my spirit, not yet
Look, and imagine the things I have seen
What is my life but the sum of its days?
Each of them finding its place in my skin
Banish the shame from your curious gaze
See on the surface my struggles within
Though I am faulty, the fate of the old
So many stories are still to be told
