Did life not turm put as you had planned?
The grass not greener, Your rivers dammed?
How was it, that you wound up here?
Moved by hate, Consumed in fear.
As I go grey, I wonder will I die this way?
A life of waste, To dwell on rage,
You won't find peace, at your old age!
I feared you as a child,
Your unkind temper, It made me wild,
I know my Mother is hard to please,
This sad existence, Now my disease.
For just once to me,
The apple, It does, Fall close to tree,
I dead the things that I have learnt,
My wells now dry, My bridges, Burnt.
Just come and see,
Just how much I am like thee,
I think I'll rest, Just for a while,
For just one more hour, In denial
Copyright © Hayden Shreeve