All
it takes is a punch to the chest
A
face squeezed into disdain
A
cold shoulder
A
blank stare
All
it takes is a clever remark
A
dripping sound on the windowsill
A
grey Monday or blue Wednesday
A
spilled cup of coffee
The
presence of the foolish
Miniscule
factors
Non-events
of the everyday
All
it takes to get here
To
push blue ink
Or
Black charcoal
Or
Red blood cells into the grain of
The
paper
To
forget to breathe
And
they grow
Like
an avalanche of trifling insecurities
Until
the building
The
street
The
city enfolds and crushes
Down
When
Only
the purest choices remain
Relinquish
yourself
Or
fight your way up and toward
Some
glimmer of remaining hope
All
it takes is a silent knife
Or
the wrong song
For
the least of them to win the day
And
Your
surface may show the scars
But
meanwhile the awareness of
Breathing
Will
keep you orbiting until the time comes
To
rest and review and to
Accept
that all the hits did not stop you
From
reaching the end in one piece.