Kyle Massak

The unruly blade pivots rhythmically just above my head

cold steel sends chills up and down my body as I feel it finds the destination

a centimeter, millimeter lower it would strike my skull, rendering me dead

certainly this is of my own volition, my creation, a tool of self condemnation

Everything cannot be so dim or dour, so sullen I continue to sulk.

Yet this can’t be all I see, there must be room for some sort of positivity

Not everything needs to appear so pessimistic, even if bad appears in bulk

If I continue to walk the path of life, lifting my head will I see an acclivity?

Never mind.

As easy as it may be to tell myself it’ll all be up from here.

It would be disingenuous. It isn’t so easy to render myself blind,

to negatives faced in the day-to-day, cannot blink and have them disappear

One day The Pendulum will swing astray

I wonder how I’ll be feeling on that day.