Born to Die Beautifully

I don't have a special immunity

From my lifetime's incontinuity

I will age, grow sour, panging in my time

Like a grape, so dour, hanging on my vine

Unbound, I will drop, helpless, to the ground

Downed and lost forever, ne'er to be found

Ghost — I have one; t'is time to give it up

When I see, half-empty, my half-full cup

Nights will surely fall as days will, then, rise

I'll lie in state, when my time-to-live dies

.

Born, I, with beautiful apoptosis;

Not, supernat'ral, apotheosis.