Pretty damn old

People are upset because it's my birthday and my age is something I haven't told.

I keep my age a secret because I'm getting pretty damn old.

My bones crackle and my false teeth keep falling out.

When I tell people that I'm a sex machine, they have serious doubts.

Is it possible that I've lost my good looks?

My doctor prescribes me more pills than Elvis took.

Last month I was in the hospital and I got fresh with a candy striper.

I might have stood a chance with her if she wasn't the one who changed my diaper.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The only true thing about this poem is that today is my birthday.

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