Cut, Soak, Burn.

In my fifties, I was cut down
Left laying in the leaves and dirt
Until I was divided, and separated
And stored away in the darkness

In my sixties, I was dropped into the ocean
I soaked in the salt, and took the punches
I kept my head above the water
I wrinkled, and grew barnacles

In my seventies, a storm relieved me
I drifted far away from shore
And found a lost man
Who I heroically rescued

The lost man repaid my kindness
By deserting me in the sands
Where, warped by rain and sun
I hardly recognized myself

In my eighties, I found kin
Like myself, they had traveled the world
Only to find themselves here
Fuel for the bonfire

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