their was pain in the side of thy ancient ribcage ,
pain that is best described and a knifes pointed edge,
bones that rattle like a bag full of items unknown,
movements that sound like the monster in the closet,
trying to keep thy eyes wide open after night out on the town,
awaking in mornings light looking like it from stephen king,
interrupted sleep all night long from the horrors of the days gone by,
oh no how it all sound so all even my mind feels like shrinking,
or maybe that is all the smacks from women whom think i am silly,
oh well its now time time to admit that i am not young ,
i am however old enough to know better not ancient not young,
but OLD OLD OLD that is what i am OLD as they come so help me out,
i am what they call OLD MAN,
THE OLD MAN.