You are old,
wrinkled and twisted you sit,
bloated face, crooked teeth.
Nought but that glint in your eye
sings of youth or of beauty, you flit
through the memories; they haunt you, they hurt you,
you love them: they guide you.
Your golden hair is gone, faded now
just as everything fades and expires,
your life will decay just as fires
grow weak, your fire will dwindle
and die.
Not just yet,
still there is that child,
so lost.
At what cost did you lose him?
Yet petty youth knows not the bounds of time.
The shadows creep,
they watch you, waiting,
easy prey,
and while you sleep they keep you company.
Guilded sunlight wanders through your soul,
you have one still
don't fear,
and by the wistful moon
you praise the silence
gone too soon.
You are alone
and always have been.
For evermore you will be.
Cradled heart and pitied soul,
the curse of sombre men.