I feel there is something in me that should not be there.
Something that is hollow
and cold and black.
Flashing lights are in my mirror,
yellow, red, yellow, red, yellow,
while the watch on my wrist counts
the seconds, minutes, hours that I sit and stare at the lights.
Caution, stop, caution, stop.
The feeling is still there,
like a parasite in my chest,
eating up the parts of me that breath.