Steam Floats Into The Sky Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Weakness and pain.
Horrid companions that
share the same bedroom.
They conspire together.
Taking turns as to
which shall dominate.

A mountain of snow
is nothing but water.

A bucket of water
in nothing but steam.

Steam floats into the sky.
Trails in the wind, dissipates.

Will I be like the water
when my bucket of life
disperses into steam?

Tired and hurting.
Stop pressing those buttons
you demons of disaster.
Seek new adventures.
Look for other bodies
to dominate and destroy.

Naked I was born.
Fresh meat in a freezer
loaded with expectation.
A walk, or maybe a run
towards the final curtain.

Antiseptic walls washed
with fresh coats of white.
Sterilized people dressed
in their purified robes.
Needles and blood.
Machines and poison.

Steam floats into the sky.
God is there, they say.