I'm old,
I can't get any older before the sunrise.
The embryonic fire burns down everything yesterday, devouring bleached twigs and leaves of mine.
Grass greener is always on the other side.
I'm old, never so prominently and hysterically enclosed.
Even the moon feels younger, darn, when it's full and bright, why can't it endow me the same carnation?
I'm old, officially old, though I hate to admit it.
The yellow daffodils laughed at my writhed face in the water.
I've let go a thousand petals.
They were taken by, and no longer mine.
I'm old, especially when I see wild and young souls, and I feel absolutely numb, about truth, I really am speechless.
I'm old, daily and weekly,
Minute by minute my body stiffens as rocks, my brain paralyzes as mud, but my heart beats harder, cuz I've seen so much,
And I'm old and in a sense I'm finally old enough, to know how life begins and ends, and luckily in my own way.