Decrepitude Poem by Sheena Blackhall
Decrepitude
Decrepitude
The doctor's confirmed it
My vagina's dry
As the croak of a crow
In its horrid death cry
My skin has turned wrinkly
My eyesight is dim
My balance is suspect
It tips on a whim
My nails are like horn
My foot soles are flaking
My breasts are both drooping
My hip bones are aching
Who knew that Old Age
Would soon topple the wreck
That's my body. No
Clerk of Works would dare to check
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/2/2024 6:22:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
