Death Card

I'm waiting for my Death card to be turned.
Not because I'm waiting for my death.
Of course I am.
How could I not with snakes writhing in my belly and a balloon in my windpipe?
No Its because I'm waiting for change.
I'm waiting for the fresh hell to make this agonized limbo seem a paradise.
I'm at the proverbial bus stop, chainsmoking.
When it comes, the suffering I'm speaking of, it's going hurt.
It's going to shake the marrow of my bones to ruin and smear my blood across this world as if I'm a bug on a windshield.
But that pain will have purpose.
I will look out from the torn shreds of my soul and see glory.
Every moment will have been worth.
How do I know?
I believe.
I believe because if I don't.
Madness will take me instead.