Years To Wear

From reflections I come to terms to my life and past. I look at who I want to be, how to avoid my years, and how I present myself. This is also a spark to inspire me to write poetry again.

From prior vision an incision in my tilted head

I contemplate and suffocate

On the edge of my bed.

I can't relate to the hands of fate

But my years are holding lead

And to simulate a time of late

Would contradict what they said.

To hang my hat by the facts

And forget to let it in,

My mouth is dry to voice a lie

So I slowly hint the passing winds.

Can not return to the burn

The ashes have smothered its kin

And my thoughts do churn my concern

Of a life I let cry out from within.

Dire fires in them of a jilted wilted dread

Won't anticipate a crystal lake

When by rapids moving on I am led.

So I create an age to slate

And wear it as a scar to shed.

What can I say to the lowly days

Other than my fiction is relative.