Bad days

Who can save a day,
From turning bad,
From rotting, stinking,
Decaying and spreading,
Ill humour all around?

May you can- but how 's
That possible, with short
Tongue, short temper,
And short memory
That forgets its strength.

For who'd like to depend
On crutches and limp,
While solid limbs remain,
Unused, undervalued,
May be you do in ignorance.

For this long sad history,
With looming failures
Crushed dreams is not new,
But continuations of defeat
That began from day one.

So life moves naturally,
With no life, no dreams,
Like a log in the river,
Reaching where it will,
The ocean of forgetfulness.