Living Artifacts of the Past

Living artifacts of the past.

Constant reminders of a simpler time.

I didn't choose this life,

And if I get out alive through all the trials

I somehow win.

Though I feel like I spend too much time sinking,

And barely treading water.

Getting by with the skin of my teeth.

With three seconds left until the bomb explodes.

I have nightmares about car wrecks.

Even my resting mind can't rest.

There is blood on the wall and urine on the floor.

I can't escape body fluids and even when I push myself hard it’s never enough.

I am bled dry of my emotions.

Becoming numb to constant pain around me.

Wondering if things ever get better or if everyone is going to meet the Grim Reaper in the hospital room I just got done cleaning.

You take one step forward and you take four steps back.

I am constantly battling myself.

Like I am my own worst enemy.

Like I am the only one that can take the sword out of the stone.

But I don't believe I have the power to do so.

I am without a silver spoon.

I don't have old money or new money.

I don’t have much extra money.

I only have what I make myself.

I only have my own blood, sweat, and tears.

Hospital beds made with turquoise blue bedspreads and perfect hospital corners that took me months to learn to make perfect, but now I could do in my sleep.

Life used to be simple lifting buckets filled with dirty mop water to dump out in the janitor’s closet.

Someone would say this is the worse job ever,

But I don’t feel that way.

I make an honest living off my own labor and now these memories are living artifacts of the past.

This poem is featured in the poetry collection "Passing Skeletons".

Available now on Amazon!

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