Who Cares

Tinier slits as
Hours trudge on through
Thick vines always
Seeming
Thicker than before
Lids threatening for
A curtain call
But sacrificing slumber
Is only one
Penny out of my pocket
Fingers heaving for
Energy
That cannot be
Merely handed to me
Through edible sustenance
Bones creak and crack a little
More with
Every agonizing punch
Of the square keys
Rough wrinkles
Encircle my joints
With ugly patterns
I feel the
Aches
I feel the
Strains
Stress and Anxiety
(Two foolish friends
Who knock frequently)
Imprint me with
Looming ruin
Worry sits
By my bedside
Making me tea and
Settling
On my upper lip
All for
One
Little letter
Defining success or
Failure
Competition is the misery
That will carve
Permanent scars
Into my shriveled
Form of a Figure
So
Apathy invites me in
And I bundle up
Bound tight into
A hut of cloth
My own imperfect
Place
Where I can
Be safe
From disappointed eyes
That linger on my
Weaknesses
And even those things that
Are not weak
Because they trample
E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g
Hindering me
Helpless
Unless I accept
The invitation
(Because what will
I be but
Debris)
And after the big
Red marking
On a dirty and pure
White piece of paper
Of course
The answer is