I've been down on my knees
He said in a voice not to please
And there are things I'd rather forget
I think of things some good and yet
Some times I think I'm wasting away
What is it I want to say
Each day I wake I reflect
What is left of my life I expect
So it becomes a a countdown
As the numbers are the only sound.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Days that drift by lead to months they fly by and yet the hours pass very slowly and you think that death couldn't be any more more boring.