I am terminal I just don’t know it yet.
In twenty years I will be diagnosed with inoperable bone cancer.
It won’t be my fault,
Nothing I could have done would have prevented my fate,
But it will **** me all the same.
Six months after my diagnosis I will take my last, labored, breath.
Doctors will talk to me with serious, professional faces about quality of life,
And having a plan.
I will make a living will,
Discussing with my family the way to deal most gracefully with the most ungraceful of acts.
When I die my wife and children will be by my side.
We will have said a thousand good-byes,
In a thousand different ways,
Acknowledging the finality of every act as they pass,
Until the last good-bye,
A kiss on my cheek,
As I drift away,
My battle fought, and lost.

I am terminal I just don’t know it yet.
In ten years I will fall victim to screeching tires and twisted metal.
It won’t be my fault,
Nothing I could have done would have prevented my fate,
But it will **** me all the same.
Six minutes after the initial impact I will take my last, labored, breath.
Doctors will talk to my family with serious, professional faces about blunt force trauma, and force equaling mass times acceleration.
I did not have a plan,
I did not make a will,
Tomorrow, tomorrow being my constant refrain.
I will not get to tell anyone good-bye,
No one will get to tell me how much they loved me,
I will never appreciate the last time I do anything,
Taking the ability to engage in each act for granted.
I get no last kiss.
My battle is fought, and lost.

I am terminal…I just don’t know it yet.