ropeburn

we wrote our eulogies on napkins
stained from bloodied fingers gripping
at life's drawstrings
palms chafed from struggle's rope burns
embracing such struggle so often
in this mystical
ghetto wonderland
we often forget
to get off at our stop
lazily lulling ourselves to sleep in a
hallucinogenic stupor of
despair
the choices we make never fully feasible
the regrets we forsake never fully meaningful
disciplined by character
and whipped by insecurity
we fetch our own twigs and nooses
in spite of our supposed freedom
oblivious to the living lessons learned
in our stories
skimming through its pages
much too fast to notice
we've reached the cliffhanger
and all the parachutes are on back order
so we dangle from tattered ropes
as gravity prevails