Fate

I have always thought I was destined to die young,

A cruel unending thought,

When I was 8, I doubted my ability to reach my teenage years,

Now, a teenager, I cannot see myself living past 25,

And I’m sure this cruel dance with the looming idea of death will always continue,

Spun and spun around ‘til I am dizzy and distraught,

Muddy hands staining my once white t-shirt now turned black,

And I wonder idly if it is normal,

To invite him in,

And to pour him a cup of tea,

And to set out jam biscuits for him,

And to put on an idiotic smile and idly confess my sins, my wrongdoings,

Always grinning stupidly,

With Death,

My closest confidant and friend.