What are you going to do?
What else is there to do?
As long as I am still breathing then I am meant to be alive
When my time is finished here and I take my last breath
Then I cannot fight death.
But for now I feel healthy
I look healthy and no one can tell
But the small piece of paper she fumbles in her hand said otherwise
But she has to stay positive
Her piecing eyes felt like they were searching me for answers
As no words could be found to melt the fear
That was protruding from her even though she bravely spoke.
She reached her hands out and I turned again.
Knowing that she offered no harm
I could not explain to myself what I had done
She sensed it; pulled back, her face quickly covered in shame
Between the sobs she muttered “I guess I can’t fool myself.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.