Manhood

It was the tipping point of my youth,
When whatever was left of my childhood innocence
Slipped through my fingers.
I was in bed, dreaming of a
Dark-cloaked figure.
Before the long silver blade of his scythe
Reached my throat, I awoke,
Conscious of my mortality for the first time.
I got up, opened my window, stuck my head outside
And screamed at the top of my lungs:
"We're all going to die!"
As the lights in the houses flicked on
One after another,
I knew then and there
That manhood was not going to be easy.