It's easy to get annoyed

when age is never on your side

but watches your every move

with stern disapproval.

 

Easy to fall out of proportion

such as is left to you

 

never quite enough to muster forces

easy then to get annoyed. 

 

And when  that happens

bits of you flake off like old skin

when smiling is a foreign land

you hesitate to visit

 

taking refuge in old grievances

that come to your aid or so you think.

 

Shadows lurk behind your eyes

when the world blinks

in disbelief at the half trusted mirror

 

then getting annoyed seems a bitter pill

a futile gesture

like bending too low to pick up dreams.