There's a fork in the road
And a fork of the tongue.
Woe is the old soul
That still aches to be young.
Futures casting their lot
All vying to be the lord of life.
Dressed in their designer best,
Who has the right story for the right price?
This game is dragging onward.
My body puts on a smile,
But my spirit is already heavy.
Reluctantly looking on the stretch of another mile.
Please make it stop.