Misery Of Aging Poem by William Ndoyisile Somenze

When I am old, & my feet
can't stand on their own, using crutches to unwind
my coiled soul, inneed of affection to smolder my
cramped back. When its love I lack, to unpack the
prone hour of
emotional isolation, loneliness, and depression; I'd
wish upon my age of youth, to enable me to stand
on my own, to seek not love but be found by it, to
envisage emotional ailment, hurt & become
philophobic yet still love a minx who'll allure my
heart. When turned into a steel & all these wights
who possess Mona Lisa's traits becomes the
magnet & attracts me to their aura for haven,
when I'm hurt by false notions, disappointed of
trusting too much of a being whose flaws strikes
my bosom like a dart & I wish to be little once
again, held like a baby in her palms, reside in the
cleavages of true maternal love. If I could reverse
my genesis, but alas once an age is done in ones
period of birth & death, a mirth becomes but an
unknown deed to ones lips as reality soaks you to
tears for having lived bequeathing love thats
unrequited.