What Ages Me Most

Another birthday approaches. This one wears a ski mask and wields a tire iron over its head. I can see it lurching toward me even though I'm blinded by the headlights shooting into my eyes from behind the dark figure. I've fallen to my knees, spitting out pathetic petitions like blood dripping from the corners of my mouth. But it won't stop coming. It's never been quite so mean to me before. But the mercy has ceased. Death will arrive behind it one day. I pray it will have a long journey before that time.