the [prewritten] story

life’s mediocrity is painful

the slow march to a quiet Death

all we do for labor that’s gainful

from first screaming to last gasping breath

the grind the wearing down

nightly glass of wine the scepter to my crown

the hours the days the years

each life stage unlocking new fears

born to complete a soul

raised to play a role

taught to make others whole

forced to pay a fatal toll