if life is like a box of chocolates and i will never know what i’ll get, how long do i have to await the poisoned one?
or is every piece filled with a little bit of poison that takes eighty years to **** or seventy five or tomorrow or today.
you ever wake up at 6 am on a holiday and try to force yourself back to sleep? bur your body just refuses and insists to slouch into the arms of your mind the arms of your mind that keep you in shackles of an uncertain next second what if a bomb goes off what if an earthquake happens what if that plane in the sky i hear crashes into my window what if my neighbours die what if someone is murdered in front of my eyes what if what if what if this uncertain next second is certain to be the cradle i lay in as i take my last breath will you say goodbye? or will you walk by like you’ve always done?
will you fulfill the hunger at the pit of my stomach? will you play my favourite songs at my funeral? (will there even be a funeral? do you know my favourite songs?)
this uncertain next second will sing me to slumber and shake me awake at 6 am on a holiday remind me of my 2 am poetry and put my body in your hands to carry.