An unconventional fear takes over my heart
As I think about growing old...
They say nothing is more powerful than the death
All the discomposure drifts away.
And it's as calm as a
quill felling from above.

But the fact that
A day when my voice won't echo in my room
A day when my books and diaries would be abandoned
A day when me and my family won't be together
A day when I won't exist...
scares me.

I begin to knit myself in the wool of promises
Promises of a life...valuable
But then...I see people around me
Whether old or young, who met death like lost friends
And there again...I am left in a dilemma.

Is there a promise for tomorrow?