A tiny army
armed with tiny knives
slowly cut away at me
They cut away my skin
leaving behind wrinkles
they cut away memories
and tastebuds,
hair, color, and sensations
Every day steady chip, chipping
away on me.
The bravest move I make
is to get up every morning
The hot water of the shower
hitting my spine is the jolt
I need, to keep the army away
Steady now, hold together,
here they come again.