The fear of running out of time runs rampant in my mind.
The space in which I occupy grows cold.
I pick up my pencil, my pen, anything I can use to write.
I tell my stories on paper, I write till my hands can’t write no more.
I try to do anything in my power to ensure my legacy is left behind.
How else am I supposed to cope with the thought of running out of time?
How else am I supposed to relax never knowing when my clock expires?

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My mind has traveled over a million miles thus far.
My soul wears thin at the ripe age of twenty-one.
A personality so big, so bright.
A fighter who fights the darkness that tries to consume him.
A heart that beats uncontrollably in the face of danger.
Where is the exit sign I so deeply desire?
Where is the pill, the cure for this delicate disaster?

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Sometimes I wake smiling ear to ear
Still, I feel the darkness drawing closer and closer with each quiet thought.
Who is this darkness and why am I his victim?
Who opened the door to my mind and allowed this darkness to enter?
Who told him life was easy and fun?
This is the story of the one who overcame.
This is the story of the young mind who surpasses all odds. 

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The only difference is that his odds are invisible.
The others tell him they simply do not exist.
I know too well the demons of the darkness. 
I know their existence floats around my being like a thick fog.
I know their ways and I have learned their weaknesses. 
How else am I supposed to escape the end of my time?
How else can I make this life a legacy and a story worth telling?