Epiphany of Fireflies

The pawns rebelled against the King, revolution began before battle killed.

Cavalry riding on mules attacked the fort, the Kings had their Souls on thrones.

fireflies were in quasar on pilgrimage, so tempest wiped dandelion's wails.

coffee-stained papers were filled with elegies, crumbled and thrown into the lakes,

the diaries of princesses became ashes before they became women.

The leaves were falling like paper planes fly, bulge calls broke strings of kites.

They lived in folktales and departed's thoughts though their legacies were lost. 

Bhagwad Gita says that death is certain for one who has been born......and my case is literally embodies it. I was born with death. I know what you're thinking, that I might start some spiritual crap or explain some deadly medical condition. Guess what you're right. But I'm not going to explain to you what is wrong with me because even I don't know it well. Honestly I didn't even try to know. I won't even describe my struggle with the condition because I am still struggling as I write this. My story isn't complete yet but I want you to know me. Not the sixteen year old girl who is dying.....but a sixteen year old girl who rebelled against herself.

My parents? They act normal...(to be honest I don't even know what normal is but just pretend I know)...I'm no VIP but just your regular teenager who sometimes get high on hormones. I remember screaming at my mother for not allowing to go to school trip and then crying in her arms that same night. I remember having crush on *let say Peter* and never telling him because struggling to breathe while kissing isn't romantic, I reckon. Imagine having a scientific talk right after saying 'I like you.' Imagine. The only love bites I ever got are injection marks.

I was never afraid of dying and I never thought about it but I do think about the moments before dying. What would I be doing? How would it feel like? And it shouldn't come as surprise that I even thoughts about my last words. I did my research about last words of many people and the most intriguing was of James Joyce. He asked, "Does nobody understand?" It clicked me. Does nobody understand? Yes nobody does. They all live life. They all chase life but they never understand life. For me, well, I never needed to understand it. I understood death. I know people see it as devil but I don't. When we are born, we get married to life. We argue with it, we fight with it and eventually we take divorce and start a new relation with death. Does it now look so evil? No it doesn't. 

I know I'll die soon. It has metastasized. But I have learnt to meet my new partner with smile. I wanted to live, everyone does. So I wrote this, as Shakespeare said in his sonnet. I will live in my words.