To be born with a
bruise on the heart
--tender but breakable on
every edge--
I swear I was born with a
noose 'round the neck, rope
fitted for a 10-year-old
--it only grows tighter with age.

I wonder how much time I have
here before I die; will I
go out by car crash, cancer
--will I jump off a cliff

But the eyes can only gaze what the
arms and legs cannot do

Feel this sadness so sleepy, weighs
like a tombstone on the chest.
How can one breathe when the
air swims like water

Will I be scared, will I be proud,
will I be unfeeling when I
fall off the edge? Will I
sink quickly enough to escape the
reach of this empty?

5/27/18