Andrew Henry Poet I do not know?

The End of the Beginning

Why am I still here, waiting for the end?
I wish I could read ahead, look around the bend,
see who and what is there,
and I sit here in despair
that the world will close in, 
I feel as important as a pin,
as helpful as cancer,
as great as my razor,
waiting for death or for life to throw a curve,
let's just hope it doesn't make me swerve,
into a tree and into the nothing,
that's death for you, just this thing
that creeps up behind you,
and once it's got you, you're through
maybe I'm too hopeful for it?
Some say it's bad, some would have a fit
hearing me speak this way...
but right now, she's out to play,
so here I stay,
and grow gray,
and one day soon I say,
that I will die on this day

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