The Decline Of Life
The midwife staring with eyes of a hawk.
Cold wisps and sounds of joy.
Enter my lungs and ear drums.
The vibrations on the car ride home
bring tears to these sensitive eyes.
Bolting through the garden
after the glistening winged object.
What is this creature?
Does it not like me?
The rock which hides in the grass.
The fall.
Please count to ten
Says the fat surgeon
they say I'm broken
but the creature got away.
Darkness consumes my soul.
A cold wisp beckons me
Why am I condemned to this hell
depression sinking in
the other children don't have these machines
it wont even let me move!
My parents are crying.
They have just found the news.
In five months
I'm moving away
Staring up at the wall
shakey and unwell
there's a tunnel in front of me
glowering like the bully's gaze.
The final tear from my mother falls
a cold wisp enters my nose
only twelve years old
