I can never be a pilot
Nor an astronaut
I cannot dredge the seas
Or climb the mountaintops
I cannot be a surgeon, nor a soldier
Will never be allowed to hold death in my hands
But I can be a fighter
And a lover, and a writer
I can breathe the oceans and sail the sky
I will always see the heights if they’re set under the right guise
the only thing i need to live the world
I still feel fake
Like I am a parade
What business do I have
Saying I’m not okay?
As healthy as I seem… My sickness can’t be seen.
My poison had no name
So WHO AM I TO CLAIM
“I can’t because I’m lame…”
To pass along the blame?
It is so hard to accept, to know
That I can ever say no…
Half full of water, lapping
Clogging up my breath
There is a tide inside me.
It’s drowning out my brain… how to breathe?
It’s filling me
Each breath, choking
Am I still asleep?
For a slow-time, there is peace
and it is not fragile, it is not weak
it will roar like the lion, like the guarding beast
I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS ANGER IN ME
I think I’m
I think my heart is
I think my
Slipping away again.
I feel the blood-sail losing its wind
What, of course, the acid burns my chest
The ice cubes melt my rest
I feel sick and dark instead
Colors blur my blood-beat, dead
The shadows bleed deep in my veins
I know now why my heartbeat strains
the tingle in my blood – is it?
physical or ethereal
is my body attacking me, or yet