On My Knees

A poem depicting not living life to the fullest

Weak and trembling skinny legs, unable to move with speed and strength, just like how gloomy days are the same. Those are passing quickly, like a cheetah. couldn't chase the movement of the hands of the clock on the wall that still hung, What do I expect from this force and time? to wait until the end of the beat of my heart?

It gets melancholic every single time, regretting the things that have not been done, When I am young, strong, and capable of doing things, When I have the opportunity to make the most of it, Sadly, how do I get back to those kinds of memories? so that I can fill the gaps within my heart and spirit, to be able to sleep without a heavy heart and to spend the last minute with a genuine, contented smile.

Going beyond the number of seventy can't go back to the age of twenty. This heaviness of heart and breath is increasing. No pain reliever can relieve this feeling. No machine can create the missing memories. I'll just have to regret everything at this moment. How can I rest in peace when my time comes? with this aging stage of life that always aches?

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On My Knees. A poem depicting not living life to the fullest by Colin Cris Celestial