Someday it will all be over
and we ‘ll be saying that at least we tried
that our existence was not pointless
that we were not a burden on this earth for no reason
that we have left something behind.
And our faces will be wrinkled
every wrinkle like a stab wound
for every moment of agony
for every century of loneliness.
Those afraid of wrinkles
are afraid of the past
of their meaningless present and
their pre-determined future.
They hate themselves and what they have become.
Time always leaves its marks
we will bear them in pride
