To everyone you’re no-one,
with your face blotched with warts
and an eye that throbs red
in a planet of wrinkles;
they call you names
but they know you’re just old,
Ninety or ninety-five perhaps
you can never tell in
this young people’s world,
let’s just stop and pause awhile
we could break down the
elements of this worn out frame
iron and carbon perhaps,
is there also an element of youth?
doesn’t your body determine your age?
or is it controlled
by that blank senile skull
which was tidily covered
in flesh,skin and hair,
then wickedly rotted with time?
(The author’s rights in this work have been asserted)