Wrinkled Defeat
I
felt her tender fingertips pressing my numb body and I knew she was willing to
clean my dirt... again. I hate mornings! They only mean one damn thing to me:
my prayers of last night couldn’t reach the stars, and my days refuse to end.
It’s
ironic how life could change! I’ve spent ages running after opportunities to
chase eternity, until I fell inside an empty hole where all I can do is lying
down in an uncomfortable bed trying hopelessly to rest my awful fragile body.
To
turn from a successful independent man who had reached extraordinary
achievements, a man who used to be the strength for his daughter, the perfect
example for his sons and the other half of his wife…Into an absolutely nothing
is a tragic joke!
I
hate how useless I became! I hate when I struggle to remember the name of my only
grandchild. I hate when I can give my own sons nothing but bills for my
medicines. I hate how every rose I gave my wife throughout my colorful days
became now rotten that she has to clean up every morning.
My
pride has distorted once I stared at my reflecting image knowing that I am nothing
but a wrinkled pathetic man who’s forever stuck in the need of others.
Every
night, I spit on my embarrassing hands for shaking all the time, my legs for being
too weak to carry my spine. I even insult myself to let that’s called Mother
Nature above get rid of me… Get rid of such a great man, or so I thought!
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