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.