Poetry and Prose

Survival Damage

“What’s this,” you ask?
That, that’s just an abrasion.
See, I fell over my heels and scraped my chin.
Don’t worry, it’s nothing to lament.
Lol. I’ll be fine.

“What’s that?”
This, this is just a minor laceration.
Nevermind my guts spilling to the pavement,
That’s not what I really meant.
Lol. I’ll be fine.

“That one?”
Oh, that bloody mess,
My pesky heart must’ve slipped out my chest
And down to my sleeve; I’ll put it to rest.
Lol. I’ll be fine.

“And this?”
It’s nothing but a slight concussion.
My mind is running around stumbling again,
Knocking down things as it spins.
Lol. I’ll be fine.

What’s that you say?
No, this is just a little survival damage
Some injuries from trying to live.
Lol. I’ll be okay.

-D.A. Baker


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