My Name is Percentage

40 to 50%

I’m only a number.

We are all a number.

We are born and given a number.

Grace is just a nickname.

5,898,688,337 was the original.

But 40 to 50% say

“we need to talk.”

12, 5

Life divided.

And some days we celebrate,

Twice.

You are what you eat,

We’d all be french fries.

You believe what you’re raised,

So does that mean that 40 to 50%

Is hereditary?

We marry the man our dad is,

So I marry and become

That 40 to 50%?

The pain you see

Of the 80%

Who try again.

As a result of the 80%

I feel a 43%.

I’m 1 of 5 every other week,

I’m 1 of 3 the other.

The 1 of 3 simplistic.

The 1 of 5 uninhabitable,

Love shouldn’t hurt as bad.

For the first 12 years,

Life was bearable,

The previous 5 have been anxiety.

I’m one of the 18.1%.

17.

Life still divided.

A normal one impossible

Because the 40 to 50% overtook.

And the 18.1% is my demise.

Crying, the mask is painted.

And I finally escape a number,

I’m an unknown percent.

We fly under the radar,

Unnoticeable.

The unknown percent

Climb a mountain

That still grows.

Just as you think it’s the top,

You’re at the bottom again.

Rock bottom eternally.

Because when your name is 5,898,688,337,

Clearly you’re a dandelion,

Overpopulated nuisance.

So when panic ensues,

Breathing pursues,

A tear misconstrues,

A mask is painted.

The unknown percent remember,

They are the 40 to 50%,

The 80%,

The 43%,

The 18.1%,

But when your name is 5,898,688,337,

Out of 7,271,500,777

And you’re climbing a mountain that still grows,

Does it really matter?