A disrepair soul in the monorail
I never count my precious breathe as I know everything has its own limits,
This breakable dishearten skeleton doesn't stand like a breakwater which face the force of waves.
Is this hidden soul disperse when you stop breathing?
* Aging; First you forget the names, then you forget the faces and you forget to pull your Zipper up, then you forget to pull your Zipper down.
-Leo Rosenburg
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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