a sacrifice of self

i wonder

if there is a point

during a thick of tumbling limbs

where psychopaths

get bored

and say

maybe this isn’t

the life for me

*

the world on

fire during sundown

and in the ashes

of night

i still shield my

eyes from seeing the

little light that remains

like a single person after

a crowd who stands still

shocked from the loss

of all

mouth open

warmth escaping

to the unbecoming

of belonging

*

it is sad

that i can do this

is often proceeded

by i can’t

but it is sadder yet

that the reverse isn’t

true