I see my reflection, where the hell am I  from.
What have I done to get here, how far have I come.
I see the thousand little scars, that blanket my arms.
The wrinkled old face, obscuring my youthful charms.
 My once dark auburn hair, is now graying or gone.
 Scars mark my face, a testament to fights I've won.
My gut now is enormous, it sags towards the floor.
My junk's always hiding, what the hell was it for.
My skin now hangs loosely, I'm a sad sack to see.
I look old and decrepit, where's the old younger me.
Laughingly, I smile, There's not a tooth in my head.
My pallor is pale, I look like the walking dead.
Hair sprouts from my nose and pokes from my ears.
Suddenly, I'm saddened, nearly reduced to tears.
My backside rumbles, what a godawful smell.
 The fumes make my head spin, I must be unwell.
 My naked body has become one gruesome sight.
 Father Time's whipped me he's won the  fight.
To keep my self respect, I don't approach mirrors.
It's a shock to my system when the new me appears.
D.L. Crockett ---1/10/2022