A poem in response to one of the sayings my mom says to much. It's short
My mom once told me
'Without your health
You have nothing' or something
Like that.
I disagree.
Well, sort of.
Broken limbs and
Angry bacteria give you
Wishes and reason and
Realization. Mix the chemicals,
Tip the scale, and cut the stitches
That united your mind,
And then
You get nothing.
EDIT: ok, no one comment, i'm turning it into a longer maybe narrative poem
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