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Description
And as cliche as it may be,
When we take "the long sleep",
We don't get night-lights.
And the truth is-
I'm scared of the dark.

So, no, I'm not "ready"-
I'll never be "ready"-

But I know
That I never want to reach the point where my hands
Are too shaky to hold a pencil,
Because I have nothing left to write down.

I know that I don't want to die like some out-grown t-shirt,
Crumbled and fading in an unconcerned closet,
I know that I don't want to go stale in some hospital cabinet,
Alone with a too-loud TV and the nagging idea that whatever I did,
I should have done more .

When I die,
I want to die as me,
Not this wrinkled thing of...
Of vague regret and onionskin,
Of emptied eyes and a life-story never told because it was never written.

And, yeah, I "don't have enough time", but
No one ever has enough time,
And I am growing older
way faster than I am growing up,
And someday
I won't be growing anything.
And when that happens,
I don't want it to be a surprise.

Because I
Am a stubborn asshole of a girl,
And I
Will be a stubborn asshole of a woman,
And if there's one thing I'll never accept,
It's dying like some crumpled chip bag,
Crinkled
And empty
And hopeless.

So when I "shake hands with the reaper",
I want it to be on my own terms.
Because worms-
like time-
Don't discriminate.
And I might not be able to save my brain,
But I can save my mind.

Description
And as cliche as it may be,
When we take "the long sleep",
We don't get night-lights.
And the truth is-
I'm scared of the dark.

So, no, I'm not "ready"-
I'll never be "ready"-

But I know
That I never want to reach the point where my hands
Are too shaky to hold a pencil,
Because I have nothing left to write down.

I know that I don't want to die like some out-grown t-shirt,
Crumbled and fading in an unconcerned closet,
I know that I don't want to go stale in some hospital cabinet,
Alone with a too-loud TV and the nagging idea that whatever I did,
I should have done more .

When I die,
I want to die as me,
Not this wrinkled thing of...
Of vague regret and onionskin,
Of emptied eyes and a life-story never told because it was never written.

And, yeah, I "don't have enough time", but
No one ever has enough time,
And I am growing older
way faster than I am growing up,
And someday
I won't be growing anything.
And when that happens,
I don't want it to be a surprise.

Because I
Am a stubborn asshole of a girl,
And I
Will be a stubborn asshole of a woman,
And if there's one thing I'll never accept,
It's dying like some crumpled chip bag,
Crinkled
And empty
And hopeless.

So when I "shake hands with the reaper",
I want it to be on my own terms.
Because worms-
like time-
Don't discriminate.
And I might not be able to save my brain,
But I can save my mind.