Bad Bones
BAD BONES
When you’re old and grey
And your bones are creaking
You seldom may feel happy
You have entered another day
The ever present stick
Welded to you hand
Torments your inner youth
Adding to the injuries
An unfair life can bring
The gasping as you walk
The bloody incessant pain
This Old age malarkey seems a wilful
Hurtful game
Age has its merits
If you are still mobile
Pity it goes so well
With the colour grey
Sprightly you are no more
You sit and sleep
For much of the day
And seldom feel the need to cheer
A bad mood is only fair
When your bones
Creak
Shudder
And make you despair
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