NaPM April 23 2014

[painter not a poet]

Skin

Little dots on my skin
I pop and pick
But never win
I catch a glimpse out of my eye
Oh, dreadful acne say goodbye

On my belly I see you there
Stretched and saggy
Like a little tear
Lotions, potions, creams and goos
Ill spend the most so I wont loose

Dots of color; red, blue, pink
Swirled around
In my new ink
You cover up so I cant see
The skin that is all over me

---

Each day I find when I wake up
that I am one day older,
my strength grows less and less,
and I seem much less bolder.
I’ve lost interest in pretty girls,
they do nothing for me.
I’d rather be upon a ship,
watching waves at sea.
All day long I want to sleep
and this I strive to fight,
yet at days end when darkness comes,
I stay awake all night.

I enjoyed this very much. You captured growing older well, without seeming like a victim, or a whiner.