A Losing Game (Acceptance)

As I must accept my ascending years,
I must also come to face my fears.
Time no longer is my friend,
Instead it impends,
Reminiscent of the end.

If it is my time to go,
Then tell me why must it hurt us so?
But if there is one thing that comforts me,
It is that I lived my life candidly.
So at my graveside do not weep,
As I go on to my gentle sleep.

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