Quondam Poem by Mycho Jamil

I saw a child, zealous and impavid
The authenticity of his imperturbable smile
Radiates with a subtle, dulcet ambience
That evinces his indefatigable faith
For the world he is yet to fathom

I saw a teenager— seventeen
Though perplexed by the antithesis
Of what the world he thought would be,
The somber truth seems to pique
His antipathy against this hogwash

I saw an adult in his forties
His narcissistic and obnoxious persona
Mirrors the coarse and squalid path
That he took in regard of the exigent need
To survive the acrimony of life

Finally, I saw an old man in his seventies
The abysmal melancholy revealed in the
Deep and many wrinkles of his face
Renders vociferous to all of his struggles,
Just to prolong his foreseeable end

The mauve complexion of his face
Was simply anonymous to me,
Until I realized that all of these
Are flashbacks of my previous life-
I am already dead.