The Poem Book That Shouldn't Be Seen [P1: If It Goes Up, Must Come Down]

The clock that marks the day when I get sick and die.

Appendicitis at thirteen,
A part of the body left me,
I was praying to god as a teen,
Goodbye to the soft me.

Now I find myself on a similar day,
With a runny nose and headache,
Unlike today I can't find a reason to pray,
Except now I want to lie down,
like he would.

I feel like I can't think,
I feel like I can't write,
I can't see the pink,
I can't see a destination,
my fate...

How many times does my clock strike?
Two, it's broken,
Like me,
I haven't woken up yet.

Four hours,
More work than can be done in that time,
More tired to do one of ours,
I don't have the right rhyme to express the shame of my death right now,
I can't find a scheme that makes people feel the same as I feel now.

I'm lying on the ground,
I don't remember if that day I prayed to be saved or die,
Either I was praying or I was lying to myself....