Handicapped

It's like my brain is running
a clumsy marathon, with one leg
kicking against my head
until it got amputated.

I misplace my water bottle,
my keys, my memories, and
my childhood is a broken mirror
I cannot piece together.

My mind becomes dyslexic
to those who spell out
their praise to me;
each well-willing breath

pushing me on this tightrope
between life and death,
where a mist of tears
clouds my sense of height.

Every day.

9/2/2020
2:25 AM