Why I Like Living

What I miss most about my metatarsal Was one day when I started to parcel It out with all of the rest of my remains Which suffered and endured aches and pains. Rest of me also was rather unique, But through time our bodies still peak In performance and downhill have to go; Only thing left is for curiosity to grow. Still in the somber scene is our senility Along with all of our poetic ability While we wonder never knowing quite why Rhyming is troubling for others who try. So read their poems and with associate; Writing will be better and turn out great And some day many may have insisted That I rare back and join Poetry Revisited. Finally, after someone's reluctant request And hearing my poems often had confessed So strange and unusual they happened to be Which is why I like living in land of the free.