Lately, I’ve felt like time is running out—
And sometimes, like it already has for me.
I stare into nothingness and think
Of things I’ve done, or should have done…

But nothing ever comes to mind
That I have done for me—my soul,
The person inside.
Everything was, and still is, for everyone else.
And I wonder if I’ll ever get to live for me.

Time is running out—I feel it
Like an itch in the back of my head.
My thoughts are frayed, my health is fading.
At times, I can’t even breathe—
Literally.

But there’s nothing I want to do about it.
I welcome the angels of death to take me home—
Wherever that may be.
For maybe, just maybe,
I’ll have a purpose in the afterlife.

-  Niko Randeni