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
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