In all my years,
I had actually just felt it once.
The steaming pile of bile,
Inflated by just a little mice.
A smile can turn to lice.
A perfectly cooked word,
Cut in a perfect slice.
One’s we thought loved,
Thought were quite nice.
Can cause you pain,
Before the eagle takes flight.
The gash, the pain, the feeling,
Wrenching at my heart,
Squeezing me good night.
I would suffocate,
Or jump off the ledge,
Nothing compared,
It wasn’t in plain sight.
Atonement, anger, regret,
None of that felt right.
Sleep. Sleep, help escape,
Though dark, darkness became my only light.
A willingness to survive,
Survival instinct,
Uncomfortable silence,
They all felt right.
Out the window,
I’ll find my fellow,
The day stars and night sun,
Either way I felt it right.
END.