Just A Thought

Life doesn't hand out free passes,

You push through the current,

Or swim parallel to get back to shore,

I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be anymore:

these words fill my atmosphere like mildew from a wrinkled, wet

sweater of 1986. I want to fix everything that

has walked and waited into my life.

Moving felt like a turnpike,

Or a catapult of rocks hurdling past the position of the city,

The home I left my heart in.

Sometimes, I regret my decisions, but I know that they will make me stronger,

even if it's like a bullet piercing through my heart,

Tainting flesh that digs into

my chest as I wheeze to intake the oxygen

that chemically bonds my life.

Nothing's ever been easy,

usually since life

dies when giving out free passes.