• xarviekhaleesi 23w

    Many people die at 25 and are fortunate to be buried at 75

    This bench of age that we adorn
    Watching our hands deep in fire yet too sweet to quench
    Smoking from the same fire that we burn
    We have saved our lives in our head
    But we burn with every heat
    Over and over
    Until we realize we have been dead since twenty five
    And we only hope for a better layoff at seventy five