“Perhaps what I write will be considered cliche,
But in the moment, it’s wholesome.
And I think capturing that moment, is what this is all about.”

The blemishes on my face, are actually blisters

They’re not just on face, they cover my entire body

Like a warzone

My throat

Everytime I speak, my voice is hoarse

Everytime I cough, I feel like I’m swallowing needles

My heart,

More mechanical than flesh

A feeble attempt to fix what is now broken

It’s been almost a month now

I’ve gotten used to most of the pain

But it leaves me wondering

Why, have I been left in such a chronic state

Is this Heaven’s Reprimand?

So must surely, the punishment fit the crime

There is no escape

Not even death, the final bliss

Can reprieve a man from his penance

My only distraction is thinking about