TWO HOURS

Under developed with the breathe of life…

I could not shake it.

Given two hours…

The doctors said I would not make it.

My eyes hit the light.

I thought that was my only chance.

I had taken it.

With lungs so weak and a heart so strong.

A steady sound of rhythmic beats carried me.

On.

For some months I was half human and machine.

So small.

So fragile.

Soft and wide eyed.

I was given this life because two others had died.

For many nights of my youth I pondered on this.

And for most of my life; death was my only wish.

Because this life did not seem like a gift.

I have wondered so often…

Did the fight stop there?

Because life lost its luster incubated by lack of care.

The care of others.

Mainly the care of myself.

I do not blame anyone for my mental health.

I’ve come to a point where…

I simply do not blame.

Because the end result is always the same.

Maybe a bottle?

Maybe a name?

I will lose myself in that little game.

So, take me back to the first two hours.

Where I had the will and where I had some power.

To be here to stop and smell the flowers.