Life’s condition
113th running
Gait opening
Forced out
Prevalent state
Extended continuously.
Can’t oppose
Running sore
Society’s competitor
Finish out
Keep running
Turned 98.
One foot
in the
grave – legs
no longer
moving – can’t
take flight.
Soon will
be taking
a shortcut –
first the
morgue – next
the grave.
‘2008’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem