I stare at my reflection in the mirror, at the ghost of what use to be. A soulful being no longer innocent to death but one that lived through dying.
To defy the grim reaper of his prize is surely to be met with consequences but as long as I keep having yesterdays, the tomorrows are promised.
No more wonders of the world, only certainties. For time wasted on what ifs, spend like throwing away yesterdays and however many yesterdays I have left I plan on living. Not as just a ghostly reflection in a mirror, but someone who is greatful for another chance.