Am I Dead Or Lost Of Head. Is It Hid Deep Inside My Head? Poem by Michael Gale

Why must we wait? ...
For the arrival of all that weight.
Why must it come? ...
Like an unwanted ex friend or vastly detested chum.

Time is our one unappreciated foe...
This dear friend, we all do acknowledge and know.
Where does time really go? ...
In time our dearest friends can realize in years absence of our company, that our age in years and wrinkles, does really show.

Observe, as we lose our shining dear glow...
Does it show, does it really, really show?
Look as our bodies fade into times past....
It would seem that we cannot ever last.

Death recently now is breathing down my neck it's cold, cold unmotioned breath...
The robed spectered demon of time, brings with him my unexpected death.
Oh well...
I guess it is the same old tale.

Look one last long stare to realize and tell...
We are gone and lastly stale.
Can you smell that smell? ...
It is stale, i tell you, tell.