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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1200084
A short work about man's priorities.
Everyone just passes him by as the old man lays broken and beaten. He cries and cries, and everyone just lets him die.
Why I wonder as the world around him passes and changes, never caring about the old man dying.
Even I just let him lie, for the work must be done, the life must be lived, and don`t forget the kids!
But, yet, such sad excuses I think.
I had a strange dream, and in a panic, I went to the mirror.
But, what do I see? That strange dream was me.
I looked closer, and what do I see, but that old man is me.
© Copyright 2007 Mr. Mistoffelees (michael_t at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1200084-The-Old-Man