The Death of Me

I die every 13th of April, it started back in 1985. Before I was a person I cannot remember in this lifetime. I was plucked from another world and hurled into the stomach of some unknown creature. I lived there for nine months. There I was fed by the creature, the creature kept me warm. Then my world changed again on April 13th at 8:36 p.m. I was spat from the creatures vagina, only to see the creatures face. I cannot remember that day very well, I was disoriented from the morphine. All I know is that day was the death of me. Now every year that day that time the warning bells of death still chime. Telling me every April 13th that passes by is closer to the day I die.