Number X Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes

We strive for control, through words, worlds, bodies
cutting through insecurities, devious to a fault
pressure whirling endless inside our collective psyche
hunted into submissive positions.
Our connection to self, ripped to pieces
as a moment of truth interrupts our façade.
When we pretend to navigate the universe
down, crashing down, we will fall
reminding us of our mortality, our fragility -
it hurts hard doesn't it?
Days too short, nights too long,
our hearts traded to peace for an affirmation of our loss.