Coughing up blood, unable to stand up without a cane, most of his friends dead. Anon has finally reached eighty years old. It's been a long, content life, but the man knows his time is growing short. Too weak and tired to make amends, desperate to stay ahead of his dementia, and cursing his own frailty, he has accepted death. And for him, it is the end.

Screaming in pain, cursing up a storm and stuck in a new world mourning some dead pony, Anon has finally reached twenty-three years old. It's the start of a crazy, weird life. And some talking horses seem to look at him funny. Like they remember who he is, despite this being the first time they've ever met.

A Prose version of the mildly popular 2019 greentext "Father Time has his way", edited to add some things I missed the first time, and to correct grammar and spelling.
Contains foul language, multiple deaths, some mild gore, references to suicide and themes of an ultimately uplifting nature.