What If

draw blood from my heart, how you dare try to stop the pump that keeps my legs afloat what if I was born a century earlier? my body not able to form, legs not able to walk though my mind could run, I'd be burdened by my defected legs I'd sit motionless or be thrown six feet under my hand would still ponder if lay my legs still the club of a foot would not steed my flight, was I born to write? do my voices stem to spread insight no ears listen, not even mine, I blow smoke out of my lungs and into my ass