Every Eighty Seconds Poem by James McLain

I did not leave home
to come back again this way.
But leaving
I left what I have left
in trust to all to they.
My mental anguish is your tragedy.
Pruned was my tree
and my shame all know.
I push against the wall.
I push against what once was my will.
My obituary.
If even it is by they whom never reported it.
Is reported to the C.D.C.
Yes,
I do mind that I am damaged beyond repair.
My body betrays me more and more.
As my mind begins to melt from the thoughts
of all others.
In ten more seconds I will for my want
become one of the elite eighty seconds.