Inheritance
Date: Saturday, 12th October 2013 @ 07:13:07 PM AEST Topic: Sad Poetry
Contributed By: spike
I ache.
a man in his prime,
with stiff knees
and creaking back,
old before his time.
my fingers, like curlicues
once so adept
at fondling breasts and plucking strings,
now adolescent inept.
anxiety haunts my corners
like paranoia sown, while
muscles twitch and tremor
in a rhumba all their own.
I am tired. So tired.
nerves fire without pause
we live what we inherit,
regardless of the cause.
This poem is Copyright © spike
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