Oh,
how I yearn for the era
when existence was adorned
with the bliss of simplicity.

It was a time,
when my grandest ambition
was to emulate the adults,
to engage in make-believe
and assume their roles.

The mere utterance,
of those two words, "young man,"
would instantaneously illuminate
my innocent countenance.

It was a designation,
that bestowed upon me
a sense of significance, reverence,
and recognition in a world that
appeared so immense and unfamiliar.

Those were the instances,
when I genuinely believed
that all was attainable, and
the future held boundless prospects.

The recollections,
of those untroubled days
still kindle a warmth within my heart,
reminding me of the sheer felicity
that can be discovered in the most
uncomplicated of matters.

Time, like a river flowing effortlessly,
glides through the hands of mankind.
In a futile attempt to grasp its elusive nature,
man wields a worn-out butter knife,
hoping to tame its relentless passage.

With each stroke of their rusty blade,
he yearns to bend time to his will.
Yet, his efforts are in vain, for time remains
indifferent to his feeble attempts.
Like a blunt instrument, his desire to control time
only leads to self-inflicted wounds.

As the days pass, the consequences of his
futile struggle become apparent.
The man's obsession with manipulating time
takes a toll on his well-being.
The butter knife, once a symbol of his determination,
becomes a harbinger of his downfall.

In a cruel twist of fate, the man's relentless
pursuit of power over time leads to his untimely demise.
His body succumbs to the ravages of high cholesterol,
a consequence of neglecting his health in his quest for control.

Thus, the irony of his situation becomes evident.
In his pursuit of mastering time,
he becomes a victim of its unyielding nature.
The man's story serves as a cautionary tale,
reminding us that time cannot be tamed,
and that our efforts to control it may ultimately
lead to our own downfall.

Let my memory forever be etched upon your arm,
like an exquisite tattoo that tells our story.
As you gently brush away those tears that
bear the weight of our shared moments,
know that a part of them will forever remain
imprinted on your delicate skin.

The petals of the flowers have turned to dust,
leaving behind a bitter taste of ash that burns in my heart.
The words that once flowed freely from my tongue
now feel like coffins, trapping my thoughts and emotions inside.
It seems foolish to even speak about death
when it feels like it's already consuming me.

As I lay awake in the darkness of yet another sleepless night,
I realize that my callousness towards others
is nothing but a defense mechanism.
But in the end, I know that I'll just be a stranger
to them by tomorrow's rest.

I haven't exactly fallen head over heels,
but there's something about the sheer
beauty of flowers that captivates me.

In the dimly lit bathroom, I find solace in my tears.
It is here, hidden away from the world,
that I allow myself to release the pain that
weighs heavy on my heart.
The worn-out tile walls, with their rustic charm,
bear witness to my vulnerability.

As I stand before the mirror,
my reflection distorted by the cascading tears,
I realize that counting my tears has become an impossible task.
They flow freely, like a river that knows no bounds.
Each drop represents a moment of anguish,
a fragment of my soul that I have let go.

In the vast expanse of the sky,
where beauty knows no bounds, we pondered
the question of when our union would take place.
Our eyes, filled with the salt of the sea,
reflected the longing within our souls.
I, consumed by a solitary existence, carried
the weight of my worries in the depths of my gaze,
yearning for a wife whose name remained unknown.

In the depths of my loneliness, tears streamed
down my face, as remnants of a past self lingered behind.
Each word uttered was a testament to the pain I held within.
While others reveled in the joys of love, I stood alone,
a mere spectator at the end of my own journey.

I stood there, waiting for love to take its seat,
but found myself lost in the pit of my own heart.