i hold my breath in
an unsure pen.
my soul is battered,
beaten, and scarred and
i cannot decide if this
is a result of tragedy
or my disease; it's
more a painting of the
two, a swirling of the colors
which have turned me
black and blue and i
am not who i once
was for my breath has
escaped my lungs and
collapsed into the ink

of a pen whose melody
has not yet been
sung.