Five years

A poem of someone who desrves a better and longer chance at life

Five Years

So beautiful, sexy and clean.
It’s something I wish I could be.
Dying so young now I really never had a chance.
She walks so proud in tight designer pants.
Miss popular there’s no doubt in anyone's mind.
I try and try to keep up but only ending up losing time.
As she brushes her long beautiful brown hair.
I sit with a hat on covering what is not there.
And you’d think maybe I could get a little attention.
It feels like I am in never ending detention.
She drives a very nice car and has it all.
I stand alone on the yard hoping to play some ball.
She has her life ahead of her, it must be so nice.
Thinking of these lonely wrists, slice, slice.
Sex, fashion, happiness and rock and roll.
I have nothing and it’s spiraling out of control.
Shes going to live for a very long time indeed.
The doctor told me I have five years left to take it easy.
How ironic is life, when she crashes and dies the next night.
As I keep pushing through this five year fight.