Worrying about Me

I spend my time thinking about not
thinking about dying. I have found
that road with no light at its end.
It is hell here, in this place where I live.

I have spent most of my life as chicken shit.
The excrement grows deeper with age.
My footprints are outlined in crappola.
Who the hell would want to follow them?

Today I will have a stroke, a heart attack,
cancer and/or other horrible maladies.
Not one person will know
I am a walking dead woman.

They will just think I am nuts.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain