The Fear of Dying

Youth seemed an eternal joy for a gorgeous and happy boy... no worries over necessities, with desires without sequence. The fear of dying was far from pondering, only beautiful days ahead for the youngest heart.... longing for a tenderness other teenagers never sought, and sometimes sleeping away the afternoons was invigorating. Like glass sheding water, his soul was pure and epic and he never shook his fist to seek revenge; he never shillied to shin a tall tree with panic... always used pragmatism whenever on perilous edge. He lives miserably, living on a day-to-day existence, but the fear of dying is to exemplify weakness, not to exert himself and to better before he hits dead-end; yesterday God was his sunrise, now that light is glimmering instead. He justifies his misfortunes with an inadequate story, while his friends enjoy a happy life, he frolics like a sky-lark feeding on what people discard in a garbage pail daily... and weeps occasionaly, instead of coming out of the dark.