What is age?

Is it really a measure of time?

It may count the days,

I’ve lived on the Earth,

But,

How could one year,

That simple phrase,

Account for the suffering,

The pain, the joys, the memories,

Occurring in those 365 days?

Is age maturity, experience?

The ability to get through hardship, strife?

Is it possible,

For the man with few troubles,

To be 21 like the man,

From a home filled with shadows,

Shouts and pain?

If age was the ability to live life,

To struggle through the hardships,

How old would we be?

Would I be 3?

The pain I have suffered,

The failures and doubts,

Is it nothing compared to those,

Who lived with a harder amount?

Would my troubles,

Be easy for them,

While under theirs,

I would be crushed without end?

How old are you reader,

Not in days you have lived,

5, 20,32,

Which

one

is

you?