Rage Against My Machine - Ian Renouf-Watkins

My body is telling me I’m old, older still at least
Because bits don’t work and some, so full of metal
That bone has gone amiss somewhere...elsewhere
Awry, around, through and down, it bloody hurts!
Warmth, not anymore, not felt, seen or even heard
Anyway, I feel absurd; irascible in fact, so much
So, knowing I should have given up, but years ago
When my body told me to stop, no, that’s enough!
Is enough, enough? I want more, don’t you?

To breathe easy, walk easily, run… don’t laugh
At me, it isn’t funny… is it really that uncanny
To dream of such simple pleasures, quietly?
It’s a bastard, a git, a complete shit storm of feelings
Coursing through me, as my legs still refuse to work
Properly, righteously angry, I want to scream loudly
But no one will hear it tumble, only, a useless mumble.
From my lips, slips the tip of something lost
Not found again, not ever retrievable, or even able
To really articulate how I’m feeling. Lost perhaps?
But, mostly, dog tired, stretched and horridly feeble.

Ian Renouf-Watkins