The future spreads out its gray wings, envelops me in shadows,
The bipolar says we die 10-15 years sooner than our peers.
The heart condition says mortality averages at age mere 40.
The state of the world says any day now we will be gasping for air and we will find none.
Will I live to see species disapear and cities drown? Will I survive to see the line of body bags, hear the sorrowful tales of lives lost?
My future is dwindling into dust, but I am stubborn.
I will keep fighting, despite the staggering odds. I will always look for the light in the darkness.