Count me out

Count me out – I’m not coming: I can’t muster the strength

To exhale: I am drowning, and don’t want to be saved

/

I don’t want to be dragged up this thin shot-line to noise

I’m at home here – it’s quiet, but for my mind’s own voice:

/

It says I’ve got a mother; I reply: ‘but she knows…’

It says I’ve got a sister yet, she recalls me not

/

It says I love the mountains, and to read, and to smile;

I reply: ‘there is nothing that I love – you are lying,’

/

It insists I’ve a chance still to undo all my wrongs

But beyond good and evil there is no one I owe;

/

It begs that I forgive those who have hurt me to death

But I couldn’t, I’m sorry: I’m not as good as this

/

Then, it whispers a prayer to a god in some tongue

And I give it a moment till its voice is all gone

/

Gone’s the line I was holding, gone my breath, gone all hope;

The screams of pain from my chest let me know I’ve reached home

/

Count me out – I’m not coming: I can’t muster the strength

To keep myself from leaving shallow waters for depth

4 thoughts on “Count me out

    1. Thanks for your response, Maggie! The speaker to me seems more indifferent to what’s happening to her/him than really hurt by it – maybe because one gets used even to the most unbearable pain if it gnaws at one ceaselessly.

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