A Cheery Poem for Monday

What would you say if I told you that
I have secret fears I'll trip over the cat
and plunge backwards down the stairs and land on my head
the impact would make my skull shatter and shred.
At the bottom of the steps the cement floor would turn red
from the blood and the brains and the spinal fluid
my body so broken I'd prefer to be dead
but I'd end up like Christopher Reeve instead.
I picture it all and it fills me with dread.
Maybe, just maybe I'll get rid of my cat.
Cause I really don't want for my head to go splat.