Surviving


What is it to be a survivor of time?
To feel age blossom from beneath your skin,
Softening memories, blotting love's rhyme;
Is your soul then lost in your ocean of sin?
Does it lie dormant within the young heart
Until, as a cobra, it strikes a vein-
Poisoning your life, ripping loved ones apart,
Covering the world in a veil of pain?
Does the angel, Death, then deem to appear?
Does the skeleton smile beneath its cloak?
Does Death manifest as your greatest fear,
Laughing at the wreckage of fallen hope?
But this is not the end; it is not all that passes:
For age is wisdom, risen from the ashes.

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