I wrote this poem one late night...after staring into the bathroom mirror...and thinking about with each passing day (hour, minute, second) more of my essence, my life ebbs away....
We all take for granted the time we have. We try so hard NOT to focus on our fragile mortality....we disguise and bury our fears in bravado, violence, pleasure, sex, even art...
but in the end...there we all are in front of the mirror....our slow demise apparent....and yet ignored anyway...until too late....to recognize the joys, the opportunites lost.
GP
****
ROT
A little more rot
each morning.
Days fall away
like dead skin.
Bleeding gums.
Rotted teeth.
Cavities of the soul.
Diseased heart
pumps
poison
of life and regrets.
Memories
bursting
arteries,
paralyzing hope.
Each heartbeat
an opportunity
gained and lost.
George Pappas
Copyright 2008
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