Dorian’s pose
There’s nothing left in my age,
with every turn of every page
No purpose, no place,
just diminishing grace
All I carry, is the weight of the past,
burdens untold, that seem to last
There are few who care,
with no purpose to bare
Yet, I stand, aimlessly as many
Life is so, not worth a penny
I stand alone, bereft of touch,
hoping to do, ain’t worth so much
In shades of gray,
paint Dorian’s pose
whose life’s astray,
to befuddle those
May this all come to end,
when life’s just beyond mend