I stared at the cinderblock wall, kudzu clawin’ up wild,
A green chokehold sprawlin’ ‘cross this Tennessee hollow,
Life flickers in me, a match struck on a humid night,
But leukemia’s creepin’, a month to snuff my candle’s glow.
Sixteen and I’m done, no worse than folks who linger here,
The sun meltin’ over the Smokies, the sweetgum air—why ain’t it mine?
I despise death’s slow drag, its damp, cold fingers on my neck,
Not scared—just pissed, a fire ragin’ in veins gone icy.
A dream once slunk in, like a copperhead through the pines,
Cross my warped floorboards, me froze, watchin’ it glide,
No fangs, no strike, just sickness coilin’ in its hush,
Woke me to the truth—my end’s stalkin’ these backroads quiet.
Why me leavin’ while others grill burgers in the dusk?
This land’s too pretty—cornfields gold, mockin’ my rot,
I’d toss a Molotov at it all, this carefree Cumberland sprawl,
If my arms had the grit to torch my damn fate.
The world churns on, deaf to my hollerin’ from the porch,
Beauty cuts deep—crickets chirpin’ a song I can’t keep.
Everybody’s fightin’ to breathe, no soul less than me,
But what’s it worth when death’s got my number dialed?
I chuck my truth like a deer stand spear, unmissable,
To God, to life, to folks cruisin’ Main Street clueless,
At sixteen, dread’s my gospel, my rebel yell,
A war cry howled, so this whole county might pay up.
Life’s a gift for us about to get yanked away,
We cling tight to what’s rippin’ loose in the wind,
My ache, my envy for kids racin’ four-wheelers, unborn,
No hate—just a love for livin’, sharp as a switchblade.
Through cussin’ and jealousy’s hot sting, I thread a tune,
A jagged love song hummin’ over the TVA hum,
Reckon this truth, let your own gripes loose like hounds,
I ain’t kneelin’ to anything . And I am proudly mad.