The undead

a poem by Amikar Anand

The years of sorrow have taken their toll, he is not the same man anymore
His eyes lack luster and his back is bent
Rust has set in those once supple joints
Creaking and heaving he goes about life, or what is left of it
He had his shot and now the time is past

The man looks about feebly, his eyes are giving up much like the rest of him
He walks unnoticed into the dark alley for he sees a light at the other end
The sun goes down and the day ends, tomorrow he shall be brand new
A dark alley leading to a bright thoroughfare
The paradox continues