My head hurts
And whispers:
“Let Go.”
Yet my soul soars
And shouts:
“Not Yet.”
My soma swells
And requests:
“Give Up.”
My heart hopes
And demands:
“Hang on.”
My body burns
And pleads:
“Release Me.”
But my psyche snaps
And pronounces:
“Get lost.”
What is this mystical,
Magical split which demands debate:
Between Life
And Death
As I choose
Hope against hope.
And why not
Say the word, hope,
Over and over?
It wouldn't kill me.
