To many, knowing ones’ own expiration date would be more than they could handle. Fear swells up within the human body like the black plague of the fourteenth century, swift and unforgiving. Is it the cause of death that brings people to their knees or the knowledge that their existence is about to be wiped away as if it were a smug on a counter top. I do not feel this fear, for I welcome it with open arms. The death I have been scheduled for is nothing more than a merciful act towards an impossibly injured animal, more humane to kill it now than to allow it’s suffering to continue. My life is dark, full of disappointments, unfulfilled promises, and cruel injustices. Life is but a puppeteer, pulling the strings with malice and twisted humor, finding amusement in my cries of suffering and distress. Did that man deserve to die? I guess a better question would be did he deserve to die by my hand. As I ponder this question I find that my actions towards him would not be justified in the eyes of many but no remorse lingers within my body. As I slowly pierced his body with the knife, the knowledge of the impending future brought a sense of calm to my ever troubled mind. That single act of so called cruelty sealed my fate and I haven’t known a more peaceful time within my life than since that day. It is only a matter of hours before I will be called, called to, how they say, face justice. These prison walls have been the best home I have or ever will know, for I am a death row inmate waiting for liquid alleviation, relief...peace, waiting for the long anticipated end.