Title

It shouldn't be here

Not near, nor far

This growing thing

It is creeping in

Messy of its timeless age

A book with but one page

I know your older being

Touch, hear, smell, taste and seeing

No one knows what you hold

You could tell my secret bold

You ruin a person life

Leave them gasping in strife

Always here no matter what

Like a short-haired long-haired mutt

Nothing fills you to the tip

Though many things touch the lip

You never fail to appear

With a single happy tear

About you we sing

On a different tone and ring

You are sent on a rampage

You free us from a cage

Sometimes we are teeing

But never retreating

So many lines are sold

No wonder they are told

You hold a dull knife

It causes no pain for a wife

You make a face glow but

This is present to Tut

If there is a rip

You are merely a gift