I am afraid my life is recycled.
I am afraid it’s one of the items from a blue bin.
I was born, and my parents picked them up and gave them to me:
school,
necessity to graduate from a college
and find a stable nine-to-five job.
More than 70 years made of regret and fear of
not being brave enough to live the life I wanted to.
I will die,
and someone else will take my memories, fears and regrets and put them back into the blue bin,
will hand it over to someone else.