My back is bent
My joy is spent
A ninety year old man
In the body of a young gent
Red rimmed eyes
Belly full of lies
Spewing the "I'm okays"
Until my days demise
Exhaustion overtakes
My heart and soul aches
Holding it all in
For everyone else's sakes
I don't want to be a burden
In the world's troubled garden
A thorn upon the vine
My suffering is undeserving
I use a cane
Because of all the pain
It's invisible to all those near
Like tears in the rain
I try to hide it well
Even as the battle within swells
My body is a battlefield
And I'm the crippled soldier is Hell
I'm thirty years old
With a ninety year soul
How much longer
Before it all goes cold
I will go to the grave
Before I ask to be saved
I don't want to bring others down
With the battles that rage
A crippled old man
Bent backed like the curve of a clam
The limp and thump of the cane
I don't know why but this is how I am
White hair coming through
A constant flash of memories too
Reminiscing about days gone by
My mind has been well chewed
Masticated beyond repair
But please do not despair
My fight is not done yet
I will be the 30 year old man
With the ninety-nine year old mind.
YOU ARE READING
Ink & Tears
PoetryThis is a collection of poems that I have written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, love, nature, and the darker aspect of the world that seems to always hammer on my heart. I hope this reaches some of you.
