My life begins at twenty years,
'twixt days' demands and childhood fears.
I ask myself what I've become,
To what hardships I must succumb;
And in this life to be explored,
I ask what I am living for.
These questions, numerous and crude,
I have o'er sixty years to brood.
And in this dual decade I
Have asked a lot of "where"s and "why"s.
Though now I’m but a structured mould,
I’ve culled the way my life unfolds:
My life shall be a sentence with
A majuscule, a period stiff;
With crossed T's and dotted I's
And metaphors that symbolize.
This sentence I shall start to pen
Let time fly now once again.
A Grammar Nazi I've become,
With rigid eyes and fickle tongue,
With cynic's mind I do detest
This sentence I should manifest.
My questions met with answers none.
From since the moment I begun,
I've asked the wrong question you see,
Grammatical errors poisoned me.
I asked what I am living for,
A foolish question I abhor.
A pronoun oversight, I dread
To "who I’m living for" instead.
Life is eighty years too short
To find the answers it assorts.
But no my life is wasted not:
Just hear my words within my rot.
No diamond shines forever true,
No albatross forever flew,
I've sought but dreams of happiness
And soon forgot in petty strife
To seek but one to share it with
And give some meaning to my life.