I hate the aging process in all its forms. We’re born, grow up, work for most of our lives, at which point we’re subjected to deliberate governmental neglect and apathy…and so…
It’s a sneaky insidious liar
There’s no grace to growing old
Just creaking bones
And aches and moans
And always feeling the cold
It rots your mind and steals your breath
This murderous traitorous age
Like your favourite toy
You had as a boy
That lies twisted and broken in rage
Lost, bemused and mostly bewildered
Our memories ransomed by mist
By carers we’re guarded
As hope is discarded
Until we cease to exist
