There could be a time,
When I can't write, no more.
My brain will fade out,
And I won't think anymore.
They say, why I write so much,
Or share everything that's mine.
Thing is, something tells me,
I may not have much time.
Call it guts or intuition,
Call in the sixth sense.
Call it the divine rule of destiny,
Perhaps it makes no sense.
I wanna say it all, while I can,
Post my work online.
So that I leave with no regrets,
And my soul echoes in every line.