Shooting star

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Im scared of aging.

"Your doll eyes are so cute."
"Look at your little nose"
"Ur what age? I would have never guessed.. beautiful."

I've always been complimented on my young face and mature body. "The best of both worlds." Some have said.

Will those soft words end when I age?
Will they joke about how cute I was?
Will they reminisce in the memories of my youth more than me?

Maybe I'll go to the next life when my beauty leaves me.

I'll follow my youth like the trail of a shooting star.

Burning it's brightest before it quickly fades out.

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