me myself

I was the world in my hay day.
Less the unwanted times I dont wish to remember.
Yet yesterday slipped quietly by
Left me wondering why.

Yesterday now is only a memory.
An illusion created by me.
All I wanted was life
All I got was the mess that was me.

Yet still I smile.
I laugh out loud at funny things my life observed
Today I still feel mystery
How do I make my own history

Epitaph

Who’s is that face behind the can
This one’s face you never see
It could be you it could be me
Swaying this way that
Speech a little slurred
Hands that shake with can
Eyes a little blurred
His day will start with a can or two
Then he’ll beg for another few
Then feeling rough a little tired
Place him self up on the ground
Without a murmur without a sound
In your way he does not care
It Does not matter if you’re there
He says his world is full of fools
Doesn’t know it’s just the booze
When he awakes and no booze is there
Has silent anger so beware
He’ll beg and beg and beg some more
His normality will return for sure
This empty world is all he knows
But life for him just slowly goes
No real desire to change his ways
His way of life so full of yesterdays
On his headstone someone wrote
They made it plain and clear
This man he was my friend
His way of life
It just brought him here