Today, I
put a full stop
at the end
of an on-going
poem,

the sad part was
that I thought it will
bleed beyond it,

but all it asked for
as a light mentioning
in pages,

I had to refuse
so I added another
full-stop..

But what if I'm small?
What if I'm slow?
What if I'm not --- rolling in dough?

What if I'm fat?
What if I'm shy?
What if I don't know-- how to say goodbye?

What if I'm sick? Sick as a dog...
What if I'm about as productive as a lump on a log?

What if I care? but only about me?
Even though it doesn't show externally...

What can I do?
What can I say?
How the hell, will I be okay?

They took away my sunshine,
Far away where I couldn't reach.
Without an endless sky to fall on,
the light slowly started burning low...

The next I know,
he was wrapped in white cloth,
and lowered deep into the earth,
But this time, it was his choice...