Too Low

I hate it.
I hate needles, pain and blood,
and the tears that once were a flood,
escape me no more. 
Numb – 

I can’t even feel 
what you know is wrenching.

Doctors stunned,
nurses flinch,
they say it’s gonna hurt,
I tell myself it’s just a pinch.
It never comes close,
to the pain of the unknown,
and I smile and entertain,
when I want to be alone.

I don’t want you to see me cry,
or hurt, or weak,
I don’t want you in the way,
should I decide to take a leap,
because as much hope as you say you have,
you’re not walking in my shoes,
or lying in my bed,
continuing to lose.

You have lofty dreams,
and hope your prayers are heard,
but as I lie on the stretcher,
I can’t hear a word,
markers and numbers,
and pounds and bleeding,
just get it over with,
none of it has meaning.

My veins are shot,
too tough, my skin,
they stab with confidence,
and repeat again,
and again,
and six more times,
until they’re in.

Just me and the Braves,
and a text or two,
I’m leaving when,
this bag is through,
the walls closing in,
it’s too hard to breathe,
and my kid is scared,
our home I’ll leave.
He begs me not to stay here,
he wants me by his side,
it rips at my heart,
that pain cannot hide.

So many questions,
what I need, I don’t know,
Just feel like I’m sinking,
and already too low.


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