On occasion I remember that
I am nothing.
My life is nothing.
My thoughts are nothing.
The young are not invincible, we are
decaying from the inside out.
Out to where others can see--
see and dread the thought
of their own unavoidable fate.

I lay in the grass and smile.
Breathe as hard as I can,
     push it out     push it out.
It always remains.
I've grown accustomed.