Lips are parched,
Silver threads weave through my hair.
Skin loosens over weary hips,
Time etching its tale with care.
Hormones rage, a silent storm,
Mirror reflects a changing face.
Then it hits—I'm growing old,
Yet the world moves at its pace.
***** unrested, sleepless nights,
Anger clings, like an old refrain.
A cycle fades, but I remain—
So much lost, yet much remains.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 9:27 AM UTC
Lips are parched,
Silver threads weave through my hair.
Skin loosens over weary hips,
Time etching its tale with care.
Hormones rage, a silent storm,
Mirror reflects a changing face.
Then it hits—I'm growing old,
Yet the world moves at its pace.
***** unrested, sleepless nights,
Anger clings, like an old refrain.
A cycle fades, but I remain—
So much lost, yet much remains.