The Wound + The Stich (poem)

"What is health?" the broken man cries.
Health is productivity before creativity dies.
The song and dance, outward flare --
Health is showing off when you don't care.

Take a year: fifty-two weeks made up.
Seven days, three-six thousand closeup.
For you it's a good day, for me it is not --
Existence tied loosely, confusing: within a knot.

I'm me today, and tomorrow's me's past,
I'm the present and future: I hope this'll last:
We kissed yesterday, but today we argue...
I'd say 'I love you', but my mind is askew.

I've learnt to be aloof; isolated:
Thus my social uses are so far unrated.
Should regular contact be the norm?
Or is it mystery you love, when you see my form?

* * *

Now, watch. Adrenaline's impact
Dilates the mind: I reach inside and the fact
Smiles in the dark. Pearly whites;
Indeed, the shark's teeth, show me my rights.

When pushed: retaliate. The cut replies
In kind: if I go blind, they lose their eyes:
One on one, or against you all:
You played the fool and I return: you fall.

Bred alone, no siblings, left to think:
Incredible, how many times I did sink.
What does up must come down:
But I crawled the reverse: give me my crown.

Never a sheep, once I was given the chance:
Be independent; follow my unique stance.
Some days are poor; some filled with mirth:
Control your emotions, and discover your worth.