Dearest Self,

How scary to look into that silver wall

and see the shell of what you've become

the deep creases and trenches in that young man's face

don't reflect the man he knows he is 

But it holds him like a hostage unable to escape 

Time sprinting by as you watch

Thinking you you will catch up...

One...Day...Maybe

But he's so far ahead 

What's the point 

The simplicity of misery 

The ease of excuses 

Slowing the pace

and time

Is out of sight 

Gone, but still here 

If you leave now, you might catch it

Yet you're still at the wall

Reflecting upon the current portrait 

a body crafted by past woes 

So I won't hold you back

when you you go to break the glass 

Because 7 years of bad luck...

Is better than a life half-lived

 

Love You Lots,

Vito