Shelf Life

If I dropped anon I’d be satisfied
that at least I tried before I died
to do much more than simply bide
my time,

but then my penchant for the facts
recalls a youth innately lax
that dawdled, doodling pointless tracts
of rhyme.

Ironically it’s truly moot
for all we are is spoiled fruit
routinely bruised in our pursuit
to climb.