I want a turn.

Hand me your board brother.

Orange & skinny with a flipped up deck

I'm doing it my way.

Hands where feet go.

Legs up high

Steady

Rollin

Picking up speed

Can't believe I'm even still on

Heart racin'

Rock hits

Slam

Elbow on cement

My arm hurts & I'm stoked

Who says you can't do a handstand on a skateboard

Scar reminds me

Of how Ive always been

I've a scar on my finger

Second from the left

And I haven't the slightest where it came from.

But I have made up a story

(Quite a silly one, really)

And an answer it certainly suggests.

Once when I was two

I was up in a great tree

And I had never been very well balanced.

A cardinal came along

Singing his cheerful tune

And little young me was quite frightened.

So I jumped from the tree

Ran full speed back inside

And I got a nasty paper cut that never quite healed properly.

Sometimes poems have strange endings

Especially when they're made up

And I'm not sure what you were expecting.

Anger

Sadness

Trauma,

My mind circled into a never ending spiral of emotion

Far too much to control

And with no idea how to help me

Only one place to go...

Cold

Sharp

Slick

My last resort to a better ending

Smooth steel to make me forget the anguish

A thing to distract

Slice

Slice

Back and forth like lumberjacks sawing a tree

Until there is almost nothing left to be

except calm

With due time my calm fades until all that remains is soft and lightly colored against my skin

Resting upon my forearm from side to side...

A reminder that I'm still alive.