left to write (journal entry)

My pages are coming to an end
I have to learn to write with my left
Do you notice how the heat stays even
After the sun has left?
As if the sun hasn't gone at all
As if the sun wouldn't be gone long

My back hurts too I feel so old
Why is it
As we age we turn into gold?
Why is it, when I was kid
I felt as if
I knew every little thing?

(This handwriting tells me only half of myself is an adult;
the other half is always a child)
Looking at this makes me ask myself:
Did this really come from me?
Did I really make this?
Is this mine?