Time slips through his fingers

Shortness of breath

Getting worse as he gets older

Hot and dreadful days pass, 

and nights become colder. 

 

Alone at a park 

Reminiscing of times spent, 

thinking of more he could have done with his life, 

and starting to regret, 

staring at jolly young fellows, 

becoming hateful, and bitter

starting to resent. 

 

Why must one look back and grieve, 

for the life they think they lost

When the whole time their hearts are still beating, 

Ignoring what's there, being so naive. 

 

 

 

 

 

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