a man is not....

grow old
makes me tired
whereas only 40
weakened my brain
become white hair
and perhaps turn into soil
grow old
strong hand only to raise a pack of cotton
living death chase
and hope my body does not bury itself
grow old
hopes realized
that beautiful life can not be imposed
sometimes forget my age
and not ashamed to spit desire
when his conscious ?
whether to death ?
whether through your anger
possible to reach a dream
and never feel old