We all have a shelf life
Even the ancient Aborigines
With their Didgeridoos blowing
songs through dreamtime
Have a shelf life
We all wear out
Collapse into ourselves
Like flytraps clutching our souls
Yet, with time
We all will be set free in the
end
As humans
We constantly try to change our
appearance
The young wish they could look
older
The old wish to look younger
Washing their gray hair with
chemical dye jobs
Lifting their faces
Stretched so tight
Their fake smiles never go away
All to hide their fading shelf
life
Yet, most of their insides are
rarely changed
For, there’s no surgery for the
soul
No money that can change one’s
spirit
It can only come from within
Only from within
This poem is from my book : Petals Falling
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