Ever-Dying Self

regardless of the words chosen,
the moments wailing and failing,
crescent as a ship sailing,
through the night sky in farewell;
i pawned my sanity for this bodily shell.

dull at the edges,
empty within — though blood rushes
alongside this craving skin
hugging the lungs as they draw life
taking and giving all the same.

the birds sing of spring,
flowers sprout in the depth of my core
though my throat remains sore
from silent screaming;
i screech like a raven before death.

the things i have and haven’t done
won’t alter how it works — the lungs,
the heart, matter, or the sun
all spinning toward their undoing;

i cannot stop betraying
my ever-dying self.