Slowly turning pages
Though this book of life
Among the tattered ages
Filled with bitter strife
Among the faded letters
Of a past that seems to taunt
Emotions of lost desires
Forever that will haunt
Along the ragged binding
Holding what is left within
By worn and aged threads
That are growing ever thin
Covers that are closing
Marred with scars that shall not fade
Until at last the time does come
When this book becomes unmade
Though this book of life
Among the tattered ages
Filled with bitter strife
Among the faded letters
Of a past that seems to taunt
Emotions of lost desires
Forever that will haunt
Along the ragged binding
Holding what is left within
By worn and aged threads
That are growing ever thin
Covers that are closing
Marred with scars that shall not fade
Until at last the time does come
When this book becomes unmade
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contemplated existance at 5:37 PM
