Laying on a cold hospital bed
Wondering How the years had passed,
Regrets–there are actually None
Though Everyone asserts that there should be.
Would I tell the kids anything?
I don’t think I will,
The kids must make their own Heaven or Hell,
It is all a matter of personal choice,
And must be created by identity.
What would I leave to prosperity?
Only the Thought that Death does not scare me;
I still curse old enemies,
And cherish the friends once had.
Advice would be simple;
Never give into them--either kind
As the result will only destroy you!
Every fight you have starts easy,
Almost without Notice of point of origin;
But every Fight lasts for Life.
Defeated enemies are always replaced
By Others of like nature.
Friends get substituted as well;
Though without the original loyalty.
Cherish your Youth in full measure,
Because Age only means more Dependents;
The later destined to suck you dry.
Simply hope that you do not lie in the Coffin,
Cursing that which you had not did;
The Trail ending here. lgl