Almost Gone

I'm not special. Just a guy who forgot to die twice. Grew up in

a house that smelled like cigarettes and yelling. Dad let mom

work doubles. I raised my cellphone ramming and rage. At twenty-four I

put a gun in my mouth. Pulled the trigger, it jammed it. At twenty-seven I

swallowed everything in the cabinet. Woke up three days later with tubes down my

throat. The doctor said you're lucky. I said, "I'm not,

but I rise Not because I'm strong. I rise Because I remember

the taste of almost gone. I rise. Knowing this body is rented.