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Staring at me with eyes so bleak,

wrinkled and grey

A hollow man, freak,

Looking half asleep in the middle of the day

Emotionless, except for a tear.

Which tumbles down a craggy cheek

In remembrance of a better time,

Of when this man was at his prime

Days of happiness,

of laughing out loud

Happy faces,

smiles in the crowd

But who is this man,

that stares at me

With grey faced tan,

riddled with misery

I rubbed my eyes, then realised

Who the man was staring at me

It was my reflection,

It was me

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3 comentários

Martin Pickard
Martin Pickard
01 de mar.

One of those moments, captured


Alison Blevins
Alison Blevins
29 de fev.

This is very moving Darrell and I can totally relate to it.

Darrell Troon
Darrell Troon
29 de fev.
Respondendo a

Thank you Alison, sometimes I feel happy and smiley, and then catch a glimpse of my Parkie face 😟

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