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A Walking Coffin

Aren't We All?

By CatsidhePublished 27 days ago 1 min read
A Walking Coffin
Photo by Tuva Mathilde Løland on Unsplash

The supports are rotting.

I feel each creak and pop,

A symphony of decrepitude,

Joints unreliable and failing.

It's harder to arise each morning,

Back and hips sore from sedentary slumber,

Eyes blurry from disrupted sleep.

Ambulating more slowly every day,

Distances seem longer than they ever were before,

Familiar routes grown strange and treacherous.

I don't recognize the face in the mirror,

Supple skin grown saggy,

Jowls grown heavy.

Only the eyes are familiar,

Still bright and glowing,

The last ember slowly fading,

Witness to the relentless passage of time.

I will be buried in this body someday.

Free Versesad poetryElegy

About the Creator


Pronounced Cat-she: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat-s%C3%ACth

What can I say about myself?

A mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a walking coffin

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Comments (1)

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  • Shaun Walters26 days ago

    Well, that’s making me feel the passage of time. Great job!

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