I’m not afraid anymore.

I watch the dirty yellow half moon

Sink on the horizon piercing the lazy clouds

Like a rusty scalpel slicing tired flesh

I remember the pain and the sting of the blade

And the hate in my heart going inward

Imploding, red, faint, infinitely bitter

Undeserving of any lot, cast one, taking it and hating it

I blame myself, but really it’s me making the chamber that life will gas me in.

I’ll die sooner or later. Sometimes sooner if I can beat the rusty moon to the blade

Probably later, she doesn’t share, and I’m not afraid anymore.