Inevitable Questions

the inevitable question

arises again

and it cuts

just as deep

as it always does


the inevitable question

always asked by someone else

always painful

always innocent

and always answered with a slice


the inevitable question

on this weary evening

this repeated hell

of the days we retell

when we’re old

(if we get old...)


the inevitable question


and it doesn’t hurt—

as bad


the inevitable question

the invisible tension

and he asks


what’s for dinner?”

unaware that I’m getting thinner

and that I am not a damn winner

not your inspiration

not your goal

not the one to look up to

because the illness takes its toll


and that’s just one




This poem is about: 
My family
My community
Our world


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