Every, and, of, heaving,
fall, rise, my, chest,
will,
lead,
to,
me,
falling,
down,
I’m at
a two
way street
where I
can’t decide
where to
go in
my panic,
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump,
I c a n ‘ t b r e a t h e ,
B u t I w o n ‘ t l e t t h a t s t o p m e,
I w o n ‘ t d i e,
Because I am a beautiful poem,
And my every breath is a comma,
To never end the sound of my voice speaking to you,
I will defy the rules that my every breath must be like periods,
They don’t want to be like periods in how they perfect the art of endings,
You say my every breath should be like periods so I’ll be more structurally put together,
But I thrive in my quirkiness, and actually find myself too irreplaceable of a soul to fade,
I’m a panicked person that isn’t structurally put together,
Yet able to surprise you with how I won’t back out,
This beautiful poem of a person written before you won’t end with a period,
Because all of my pulses are commas that perfect the art of not being finished off,
Inside of this strong panicked writer,
Mcneil High School
12