Sick Enough? – A Poem

There is no “sick enough,” but some days I wonder.
If I beat it harder, left it writhing in the dust only to be spat on, would I be happy?
This of course leaves me with my mind.

Ethereal and cold, she begs to be noticed.

If I split my mind, carved out the memories and blew them into the air like dandelions, would I be happy?

Left with no shell and no substance, just girl, dust and stars.
Drifting into the smoky blue backdrop, nothing feathering her.

Only then do I realize that I’m the absence of my body, I am indifferent to tough. In the blank, my mind yields no questions.

The starlight girl is drifting, not peacefully, but aimlessly.
Some days I still wonder about the starlight girl. I feel less connected to her, my breath lighter.
Now there is a new girl. A shadow feathered in light.

There is no sick enough.

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