Born with tainted organs,
A structure with loose screws,
both in body and mind,
but that's not what I mind.
This pain passes from one to another,
father to daughter, and so forth.
The torment doesn't cease,
this self-destructive disease.
Despite the normalcy of divorcees
(to be or not to be),
Seared into the base of my brain,
was this reality I saw too clearly:
Things would change,
people would age, and die,
I'd "grow up" and join society.
This reality wasn't so easy.
Rattled by ice and shaken,
not only by childish fear,
I wanted what was to come,
even as the trees grew near.
I'd swallow pill after stolen pill,
if it would retire my weary soul.
I'd drink in the ocean,
if in turn, it'd swallow me whole.
Of course, these are things you
And yet, the only thing that stops me,
is knowing I won't grow old.