This internal cataclysm
Incurable but I am hoping
That my mid-twenties tragedy will transform
My biological clock into a vortex
Sending me shooting forward to see that I am divine
Then back again to this impending mortality
I cannot see the future, endless
Possibilities take form in the shape of current faces, places
I often wonder if in fact I am as I claim
"OK"
Words like strong, will of iron and resilient
Pair with my story when told by others
My version is much more malleable
More like gold in the hands of Hephaestus