Give me a minute
The numbers don't have seconds attached to them
I'm hanging by God's thread
I expected a hammock
Not a tight rope walkers act
Or a comic's drunken crawl
I am in the third act of the play
To get my money back from Banquo
Aided by the stealers and murderers
My back hurts and I cannot hold the throne
So, I steal the crown for them all
Now my sagging breaths
At least have turned into numbered ones
And I am not afraid of death
Or the laurel wreath of freedom
Hope has come
The thorns have caught me
I cannot leave my position
Instead, I am an imposition on you
I am truly sorry
Because I worry too quickly
My mind screams,"I love you"
So give me a minute
To muster courage
For just three words
And that minute will make my day