I've become too aware of my mortality;

The days, they pass.
They pass like the clouds.
They sway like leaves in the wind.
They drift like a memory you've let go.
The days, they pass like the barges on Columbia.

Months, so sojourn.
They come to us like a holiday.
And fade unlike the elements we dread.
Months are words softly spoken then forgotten.
The months, they are temporary, like broken hearts, and plastic smiles.

Whereas years are forever.
Notching slowly on your bed post.
As the years pass, the pillar of life comes to be smaller.
Slowly, but exponentially: it dwindles, and collapses under the weight of senescence.
For the final notch marked constructs your death bed.
Last edited by HandsomeFrank at Mar 20, 2009,
What style of music did you have in mind when you wrote this, just out of curiosity?

I think its pretty decent, I guess the only criticism I can give is that there are some kinda pointless metaphors/similes. But I'm not a great writer so you'd be best to wait for someone with some kind of experience.