Age Old Lines

Unclaimed youth snarls and growls at my rear,

Trying to extol the virtues of innocence,

With fake victories of drowned promises.

Vitality and smooth skin were all I had,

Now they both lie in the grave that awaits me,

Being unfulfilled, unvalued when they were at their peak.

All that's left are convulsive shudders,

Aches and pains, a sadist's delight,

Inability to carry out monotonous tasks,

Strangers have to bath and feed me.

Tormented by the coming doom,

I yearn for a satisfactory end,

One that explains who I was

And who I could have been.

© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 18.05.2009