When not a day does pass without a groan
And not a night does pass when I have sleep;
When my own helplessness I do bemoan
And secretly for myself I do weep;
When no one seems to care that I exist,
It matters not whether I live or die.
Life no longer appears to be a gift.
Why be afraid of death if it is nigh?
The old should try to make way for the young.
In their time truly they enjoyed their youth.
Why should the old by their neglect be stung?
It’s time the old do learn this simple truth:
The world belongs to those who’re young, not old.
Let this in minds of old men yet unfold.
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