Growing Old

This grown up stuff gets more complex
than the super ego and the id
We never have much time for sex
I don't know how we ever did 

Full time schedules
Traffic is always hell
No matter how much we scream and yell
We are running on fumes and the mirror tells
I'm at my wits end, 
I live for the weekends

Wake up late, drink some tea 
I turn  off our phones 
I pray no one wakes me
I don't want t.v. 
I don't want food to eat.
I just want to sleep
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Marszalowicz Avatar
August 4, 2013 at 9:44 AM
That's cool. it reads like a gripe from the old man himself. extend the lyric by putting him in his favorite chair!
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace