The inevitable

Death comes to us all
Old or young,
Time is the key 
When the last song is sung.

Euphoric perhaps? 
Know one knows,
Peaceful or painful? Everyone goes....

Travel, marriage, birth, buy a house? 
Raise kids the best you can, find the perfect spouse.

I’m 25 years old and panic at the thought, in 50 years time, I’ll most likely be ash, I’m
Distraught.

Spend all your time working, learning, achieving, for what? The best job? Most money? Deceiving- your paying for your own plot...

I want to travel, see the world meet new people and relax, None of this worrying and fretting over paying my bloody council tax.

Pension? What’s that probably won’t ever happen. Not enough money to live through the week let alone to retire unlike Verstappen.

Dying for a holiday, mind the pun. Warmth on my face from the healthy glowing sun.

I’ve never been to a festival, streaked, or rode a motorbike, never stuck to a project, learnt a language, been fishing and caught a pike.

What I would give to go back to  being 10. Not knowing any different, no worries, just making a den.

Don’t take this as morbid just take it as frightened. I’m 
Scared of the unknown, alone, my body tightened. 

I’m going to try and make the most of my time starting now. 
Look back at this poem and think, you’ve done it, lived, wow.