what i think at the end of the day

there are things that worry me.
the persistent, rhythmic hammering in my head,
the knee which limps backs to normalcy, but, slowly,
the cough that resides in my chest, lungs and throat, in the cavities of my skull,
the thinning of the hair on my already bald scalp,
the physical dimensions of my existence,
frustration.

the only thing that i am afraid of is dying young.