Seconds like hours, minutes like days, hours like weeks.
I watch life scroll on like an old withered film strip
lined with dirt. My bones ache. They creak. I'm weak
in mind, body and lack-of spirit. What a wearying trip.
I could've done it a long time ago when hope was justified
and there were treasures to be found in the most frightening places
but I cringed and flinched and hid my fear or at least tried
and cowered like a coward and ignored the faces
of those that succeeded. Those that reached out and grabbed
every chance at love and joy. Those that fought for what mattered.
Meanwhile I wrapped myself in the strata of empty things, it's so sad.
Too late now to salvage a fragment of real. My heart is cooled, shattered, scattered
before me like a beloved piece of art forgotten, its value unknown.
I look through narrowed eyes at the blurred remanants and think,
Pity.
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