The fear

It happens to us all,
and we aren’t able to predict when.
There is something scarier about it,
when time cannot be written with a pen.

I try to cherish every minute,
for this could be the last time.
People think I’m crazy,
but the thought always crosses my mind.

When you’re obsessed with control,
but a pulse is not something you can mend.
Anxiety of goodbye eats me up,
I cannot stop my fear of the end.