A Nice Beige Brotha

It ends or it doesn’t. That’s what you say. That’s how you get through it. The tunnel, the night, the pain, the love. It ends or it doesn’t. If the sun never comes up, you find a way to live without it. If they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, learn how to make enough coffee for yourself alone. Adapt. Adjust. It ends or it doesn’t. It ends or it doesn’t. We do not perish.

I read an article last night which states the human body recreates itself every 5-7 years Every skin cell , every atom Every piece of you is changed No two particles inside of you are ever left the same Tears streamed down my eyes As I realized this implies That someday I’ll have a body that your hands never explored Cells that do not crave your touch , hair that you have yet stroke One day I will be free of you 7 days down… . 7 more years to go