Chris Wilkins

A fictional narrative of a non-fictional life.

A Poem

Place your hand on your side,
this world gets harder yet,
a burning in your sides,
not yet filling with regret.

Move your lips more slowly,
this race will not win itself,
pace your breaths steadily,
all that matters is your health.

Make one foot follow the other,
as ocean precedes the sand,
it is not so difficult, you see,
you just have yet to land.

Now for the final precession.
With unmoving calm, souls cease it’s quivering,
your hands, the lips, the mind they function,
But remember, it’s not important, so long as you go on living.

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