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