49

"Mommy, my pectus aches. I feel
smothered by these druthers days
keeps accosting me with, in
adorned and swish trays.
Mommy, it's blinding me.
These fulgid chances and expectations
keep whirling in slow-motion. I
can't endure it any longer, I'm
overwhelmed by exhaustion.
"Daddy, help me. Make it go away.
Dispel these whispers and hisses
from the canthus of my noesis. It
keeps enjoining my body to
whish faster like bees, so soulless.
"Mommy, I wish for you to pay heed.
Please. Mommy, just this once.
"Daddy, are you listening?
Can you  hear
my tabula rasa
dying?"