reflections

Who’s this that stands before me
just how has it come to be
I don’t quite believe what it is I see

The thinning grey hair
The vacant stare
Of trouble he had had his share

Put on a few pounds
Making unhealthy sounds
I can tell he had made the rounds

The lines across your head
The struggle to get out of bed
When did you start waiting to be dead

The clothes are a little tight
The skin a ghostly white
A long way from a welcome sight

Looking around he’s all alone
all his hopes and dreams have flown
Nothing ever grew from the seeds he’s sewn.

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