I Am Dying

Lying stagnant and crippled as a pond thirsting for rain but there are no clouds to cast shade on my cattails who soak up my water my breath and my lifeblood and still the sun makes me ache as it takes and it takes evaporating all the rest of my creativity leeching me dry and barren I want to have children In my words, in my song I want to sing them alive but I can't if the words come out wrong and I can't find the cut or the tear and nobody around me can show me where I know it's there

If I ask you for help don’t just tell me

I don’t need it

Your words are hollow because I know

first is not final Humans must evolve and invent If perfection was hatched from an egg it would die defenseless and blind head lolling on a neck too weak to support all the grace of its godly brain If perfection came at the first call it would be but a babe couldn't crawl couldn't speak just sit there and cry

The world would devour him

Tear his tender flesh with greedy teeth

Roast his heart just to watch the color drain

and pick their teeth with his bones

The would would consume him

leaving nothing for me

Because the world doesn’t know how to sit back and enjoy

It only ever learned how to dissect and destroy

That’s why my child needs to grow a thick skin He needs time to incubate

But as I stand there stuck in the mud you try and tell me

“Everythings fine”

With your head so far up in the

clouds you can't be bothered with whatever

lies on the ground well fuck you I'll burrow instead I don't need to fly to make tracks

with my tunnels I can see where I've been

There's no destination

I mold and I chisel with no help

you boom overhead "I love your work"

never passing me a shovel I dig with my hands and my claws

covered in scales, a tough hide to

protect me from praise that rings false

that you shove on my plate

You try and sustain me with empty calories

junk food presented as if it is a meal

but refuse to taste what you've already tried

without seeing the garden I grew it in but why?

Don’t stick your finger in the brew

Sneak a taste and add your own spice

You know not what I make

It's for me to figure out fondly not you to uproot

from my garden where I grow my words