It was in the winter of my fiftieth year
When it hit me
I was really alone

And there wasn't a hell a lot of time left
Every laugh and touch that I could get
Became more important

Strangely, I became more bookish
And my home and study meant more to me
As I considered the circumstances of my death

I wanted to find a balance between joy and dignity
On my way out
Above all, I didn't want to take any more %#@!

Not from anybody