55 Years Of His Existence.

There is blood, There is blood.
In that blood he sees 55 years of his existence.
Blood graces the white floor just as failure graces his existence.
He look long back in his life, He sees a 16 year old to love his loved ones forever.
At 18, he loses his friends, finds new one but cherishes old memories nevertheless.
At 26, he finds love and a job and the meaning of life, He must live happily ever after.
At 36, he must not speak of love ever again. He crawls back to his parent's embrace and tries to find a life.
At 45, he is trying to build his children a good life and realises he would never see his own parents ever again.
At 50, his shelf is filled with colourful anti-depressant pills. He smiles anyways, He loves anyways or at least he tries to.
At 55, he decides he have seen enough. Curls up in the farthest corner of his bathroom. Cries just like the day he was born.
Relives ever good memory and sleeps the best he have slept in the 55 years of his life.
- Riya saluja

Riya Saluja
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 05/23/2019 The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.