There is a poison spreading in my heart
That I call age
I do not mean a smoker’s lungs
Nor
An elder’s heart disease
There is a poison spreading in my heart
That I call age
That tastes like giving up
And feels like
The home of a soldier’s battlefield
- Nearing the end of war
With no peace left to retrieve
There is a poison spreading in my heart
That I call
The death of childhood
Where the birth of burden is conceived

And

It spreads the way death does
Through life
Slow and steady
And both the turtle and the hare cross the finish line
Eventually
Slicing through the birthday cake each year
Blowing out the candle lights
Until
The radio drowns out
By the sound of a heavy wisdom

Not yet though

There is a poison spreading in my heart
That has not yet devoured it
And until it does
I refuse to accept its suffering
I like to call it "age"