Nothing mortal’s meant to last;
All good things end way too fast.
Thus I contemplate bare-assed
As last night’s meal slips to the passed.

New adventures this day bode,
Brand new miles on mortal road;
Time to bear another load
To later sit-down on commode.

Thus we live until we can’t,
Contributing to treatment plant.

Author: Rhyme In Time

I write for a living. For no kind of living whatsoever, I also write poetry and study the Korean language. And I help raise a cat with my wife.

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