Ancient and alone,
Last of your kind.
No one like you anymore,
If there ever truly was.

Hair thins, grays,
Skin sags, flabs,
Nothing works like it used to.
More scars than you remember,
Wounds take longer to heal:
Some never close.

The longer you live
The more friends you’ll bury,
A trail of corpses behind you.
No one left to talk to,
Nobody understands,
No one sees the world the same,
Even the loss of an old enemy
Brings a tear to the eye.

4/17/17

Poem #19 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)