When I was young I was a fighter
my words were strong and sure
I would take what I was given
and wouldn't dare take any more.
When I was young I was a thinker
my mind was at it's best
I would take what I was given
as if it were some test.
Now I am no longer a fighter
my words aren't strong or sure
I grab at what I am given
and come back to beg for more.
I am no longer a thinker
my mind's laid down to rest
now I stare at what I'm given
and wipe the dribble from my vest.
I used to have a body
I used to have a soul
now my skin is sort of empty
a sort of giant aching hole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, I guess it happens to the best of us.