My body is young,
But my spirit is old.
Weary and weathered,
by all that it beholds.
Words and thoughts meander,
they confound the present,
with deeds past,
remind you of your descent.
All that is good is gone,
from the other side of youth,
things glimmer,
all seems good.
But its a fallacy,
that preys upon the young,
they battle life until they die,
like heroes unsung.
No song of happiness,
escapes this dreary hole,
tattered pieces,
this is all that remains of this soul.
You lose it all one day,
and give up the fight,
after some years,
you forget to differ between the wrong and right.
Night-time is when we feel alright,
Night is like a friend,
A cloak to hide under,
When you've been torn up and rent.
