My Plea


God don’t let me
Die before my time;
My potential now debris,
Cut in my prime.

No one ever knowing
What I would be;
Gone before living, growing;
My dreams set free.

God don’t let me
Forget who I was;
Deteriorate into a nobody,
Exist without a cause.

Return to the beginning,
Dependent on someone’s care;
A pathetic, final inning,
A cross to bear.

God please help me
Escape from my fears;
Accept today’s, tomorrow’s reality;
Appreciate what quickly disappears.

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About John Northcutt Young

I write. Remember making-up stories from spelling words in the fifth grade. A journalism degree followed. Thanks for looking.
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