Here’s to
The angry young man
Inside this shell
Feeling haggard

With a few last lines
Aging poorly
From remaining unwell
Everyday

As maturing minds
Missing youth
Are rarely at rest
When explaining

All that constant pain
Lacking reason
Other than God
Hates them more

Than truths held down
Seeking words,

What hearts will write
Needing rhythm,

Now potentially lost
Before learning
Only beautiful beats
Always skip –

Knowing poetry kills
Through belief,

Ignoring how blind
Illness makes us

Where examples build
Over decades
Finding beauty obscure
If not close

Under wrinkled flesh
Growing numb,

Letting failures sit
Like exhaustion

Upon each term
Having madness
Its appropriate voice
Which responds.

I wish time would wait
Just for once,

Leaving ample room
Around wisdom

Until such rage
Jades expressiveness,

Fading so fast
While we rot.

• J. Pigno