My face slowly sinks,
Skin melts gradually
& starts to fold.

My blood's not cold.

I don't feel disease,

No aches or agonies,
But I'm growing old.
The grey-backed glass says so.


I'm wasting away.
I'm being erased

It's my birthday,
But I feel the same.
My beard is dying grey

My pulse in slowly in my veins,
& I don't feel all-grown,
Even though I am, I know.


I'm wasting away.
I'm being erased

It's my birthday,
But I feel the same.


My eye's framed by dark.
Nights & mornings have left their mark.
I'm not tired. I don't

Feel the year at all.

I'm wasting away.

I'm being erased
It's my birthday,
But I feel the same.