there is a marathon inside of my head
each thought racing against the other
speeding like electricity for blue ribbons
and gold medals.
most of the time the winner is death
but sometimes a smile beats him in the last stride
but only sometimes.
i have bruised knuckles from the time
you told me i wasn't enough and the time
you laughed at my headache,
and sometimes the scars that cover my skin
could be braille that a blind person reads,
or morse code that says "HELP ME."

*(a.m.c.)