;

i began writing my will and goodbyes at 13;
after every night i waited for my death bed 
to hold me in an unconscious embrace and 
to cradle me until i returned to our Mother,

i anticipated my rebirth to commence at 14;
i endured the unforeseen stumble onto loves knife,
while my twin flame burned third degree scars
i blindly thanked both of them for bestowing  

pain rather than leaving me empty, then came 15;
i banished fire, too destructive for my wounded
world, wynorrific tree of heaven’s pioneered the
second succession in coming-of-age stories, and

when the retreat of fog revealed a serene 16;
i thought maybe this is what people know as faith,
instead of worshiping Grim i began venerating Future, 
i meticulously wrote my new script with the love

i should have always gifted myself, but today is 17;
every year prior i addressed my bare death bed,
now each minute i eagerly await for my life
and rehearse salutations with intent to grasp

the bittersweet taste of revolution from infinite 18;
i will cast forth free birds, mourning doves will shift
into morning sparrows, i will catch early glimpses
of a fated sign from Future, and it will grant me
 
the fortitude to appreciate the final step to 19;
with nostalg kept in a locket parallel to heart,
if i ever thought teenhood would come into fruition
i might have written a more remorseful goodbye…