It's almost funny, now I think,

That it'd be me to take the fall.

But here it stands before my wake

And me, within its thrall.


They think I don't know

How I'm going to die:

With the fever in my heart;

Both my soul and throat dry.


I haven't been told just what's wrong,

But in my dreams I preconceive

So quickly is my life come to be.

So swift is its reprieve.


I thought to make a list, today,

Of all the things I've done,

But wrote only of things I've never seen,

Of the life I'd just begun.


It's sad, the way that things work out;

Our empty, barren plights.

It's times like this that I know why

The cornered beast still fights.