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For what could be

the nth time that the world teeters to the edge due to man’s failures,

I sit in contemplation of what it means to age until buried over its scars.

Try as I might to splice the misfortunes that occur in my life,

I was born prepared for death.

Cords strung my neck

and pulled out just in the nick of time.

I was meant to defy expectation,

to go against fate and have the gods place their wagers.

Like living an endless play

that could’ve ended anywhere between the beginning and its climax.

Is it entertaining?

Am I a good actor?

There must be a reason for being here against all odds,

because I could’ve never imagined being who I am now.

Looking in the mirror and seeing a face

Not a script

not a part to play in a stage of no audience