There’s got to be a better way
for me to positively slay
this less than entertaining lapse
that now confounds each stalled synapse
but I’m in such a static state
I simply sit and vegetate
restrained by steely locks of gray
that signify my slow decay
when suddenly a blazing bolt
of insight gives me such a jolt
it flings me from this creaky chair
to go and flavor life with flair.
It’s meaningless to wrangle rot
be happy for what time you’ve got
and face each moment fearlessly
with naught but hope for what may be.
2 comments:
I love this poem, it is so true. The name is perfect. :-)
Thanks Carrie, I really appreciate that.
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