He sits there, with all the dread,
Wandering around, his cluttered head,
He would do best, to move again,
Far away from, these thoughts of pain.
I can no longer, speak for him,
For the thoughts he has, are grim.
The days draw short
Years move along
Much like a song,
A very sad song
Of life's short time.
Memories that fade
And are gone, sublime
Is the mood,
That I see.
Please dear God,
Please help me.