They think Delicate

What am I

A doormat for your shoes?

Cobblestone for your steps?

Am I meant for nothing more,

than a book, open pages,

assigned by your english professor

homework that’s late?

not for your perusal

I think I have forgotten

What it means to be human

I failed to swim in this air,

Drowning in oxygen that slowly rusts my lungs

If I continue to take my medicine

Will I lose the scars?