Most of the Nice ones are Gone.

My childhood years I had a number of people enter my life. Most were too old to survive to this day it appears.
I had my Mom, who was around for my childhood between the ages of 40 and 50.
The lady that babysat me who was like 75.
And my Piano Teacher, he was also fairly old. Grouchiness was how you could tell, that and the almost-white grey colored hair.

They were the best people I knew. Nice, sophisticated, polite, never out of turn, never out of order.

Slowly over the years they’ve died, and I mean the years between 10 and 20.

I’m 20, and some of the nicest people I’ve met between the ages of 10 and now are dead.

I’m left in a world where I have to pick my friends and decide how good they are as people and friends. Whether I’m right later on is to be seen.

Shit it was easier when the people you wanted in your life sifted right in and
the garbage filtered out.

Now I get a heaping helping of both, the choice is mine.

I haven’t the slightest clue if I’m choosing right. Ever.

Most of them are gone, few are left,
and the rest, a somewhat poorly chosen selection so far, is up to me.

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