When I was a young man; my days yet unnumbered. <br />I lived my life as if I was never going to die. But now <br />even if I should live forever; I’m still down to such <br />a precious few and I owe it to those who’ll survive me <br />to tell them the truth. I never should have lied. <br />I lied to cover my sensitivity to light; dark shades <br />were my closest friends. I lied to bury the dead; <br />that they might live forever. In part to be remembered, <br />for more than being a lousy aim and missing the meat <br />between my ears with their final shot at life. I lied <br />to protect the guilty side of that tiny bit of innocence in me <br />and for carrying all the naked pictures in my wallet and heart; <br />images of my love for those people and things…. <br />I could never buy or own. <br />I lied, when I was a young man; my day already counted <br />and numbered like the hair on my head…. <br /> <br />2008 © TS<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coup-de-gr-ce-and-vichyssoise-served-cold/
