I am bound with scars,

the contours of silent pain

etched like cuneiform

across aging skin.

I feel the future's ghost

stroke its bony fingers down my spine.

I shudder and curl

into my infant self.

Its  claws have hooked deep

into my choking heart,

gone feral with the lingering doubt,

afraid to die.

Afraid to die,

Knowing we all die alone