Dying

Everyone dies. Every day. We shed our skin, even the inches that haven't worn thin. We're discarding selves of ourselves we no longer need. Grieving through tears what we no longer fear. We let go of much though our instincts instruct us to hold on. Cling to things that feel right and clutch close to heart the wrong like a dearly beloved song. Let us not forsake our humanity. Vanity is a shining scar. Can't choose our stars, but we can choose our scars. Let us lose them. Some part of us has died every day since the day we came to be. We're dying till we're dead. All that dies within us, sprouts something new in its stead.

May the worst in me die today. And if the best in me does, I pray it lives again tomorrow.