Shrinking

To live is to die and to die is to breathe.

To live is to flourish 

To live is to blossom.

To live is to be idle

To live is to go rotten.

We punish the reasons we cannot survive

And swallow them wholly like frogs do with flies.

We praise all of the reasons we haven’t left yet

And we sulk in the tears of the reasons we will.

She cried and she wept, observing the butt of a cigarette

In its final minutes it was only allowed to be confined

Confined between the pointer and middle finger of a tired man

Who will soon be taken by the thought of his mother

As she is up there, watching her little boy navigate a brave new world

To die is to breathe and to live is to die.

To die is to go rotten

To die is to be idle.

To die is to flourish

To die is to blossom.