Here's a confession: I am terrified of death.

Since I was a very small child, before anyone close to me had died and I had experienced what death actually meant, I was afraid of it. There is not a time in my life that I can remember when I have not had the concept of death lingering at the back of my thoughts, and many nights I have been unable to sleep because of that disgusting, sinking feeling that you get when something truly terrifying occurs to you: I will cease to exist one day.

Despite my rationality, and despite my tough exterior, the concept of death, of an eternity of nonexistence, is sickening and terrifying. And there's nothing I can do about it.

This poem was borne of that fear. I'm not a poet by any means, and this was written in about five minutes while I was in the bathroom at 4 in the morning. If that's any indication as to just how preoccupied I can be with this subject when left to my own devices.

The title for it is the latin word for "conquered" and is inspired by William Ernest Henley's poem "Invictus," [link] which means "unconquerable." That poem is all about having an unconquerable soul, and being strong. And mine is about how weak I am, and how conquered I find myself by the fear of death, and how it is something I have struggled to overcome, but have failed.

I don't really know if this is suitable for submission on furaffinity (can't find anything in the AUP that deals with poetry and what sort of subjects you can have). I guess I just wanted to share my fears.