My face slowly sinks,   sink melts gradually   & starts to fold.   My blood's not cold.      I don't feel disease,   no aches or agonies,   but I'm growing old.   The grey-backed glass says so.      I'm wasting away.   I'm being erased   It's my birthday,   but I feel the same.      My beard is dying grey   my pulse in slowly in my veins,   & I don't feel all-grown,   even though I am, I know.      I'm wasting away.   I'm being erased   It's my birthday,   but I feel the same.      My eye's framed by dark.   Nights & mornings have left their mark.   I'm not tired. I don't   feel the year at all.      I'm wasting away.   I'm being erased   It's my birthday,   but I feel the same.