The Last Diagnosis

Cane clicks time down sterile halls, a rhythm for the hurt, Leg like a stalled engine, mind like a lightning burst. Whiteboard full of question marks, I wager with the odds, If mercy can’t be honest, then let the truth be raw. You want comfort; I want answers. One of us can’t be first. Break me, blame me—still I’m right tonight. Pain confesses where the lips won’t bite. Everybody lies, but symptoms don’t; I read the storm the body wrote. Give me doubt, I’ll give you breath— Trade my peace to bargain death. If there’s a cure inside this cage, I’ll find it in the flames. A bus crash, shards of memory—Amber’s echo in my head, Mayfield drained the poisons, left the rest of me instead. Pills like paper armor, sarcasm like a shield, The cost of getting answers is a wound that never heals. I can fix the breaking pieces— Not the broken in myself. Break me, blame me—still I’m right tonight. Pain confesses where the lips won’t bite. Everybody lies, but symptoms don’t; Cuddy at the doorway, love that couldn’t make me stay. I drove into the fire just to burn the past away. Prison bars, apologies, the life I never chose— Truth is just an instrument that cuts the one who holds. Wilson marks the calendar; the future shrinks to days. Funeral smoke, a message: ride with me, let’s fade. Two bikes on the blacktop, laughter fighting time— If I can’t cure the ending, I can choose the final line. Break me, blame me—still I’ll stand and fight. Pain tells stories when the heart goes quiet. Everybody lies, but I won’t now— I feared the cure I needed most. Keep your myths; I’ll keep the scars. Call it cruel or call it art— The last diagnosis is a borrowed piece of life. Cane falls silent. Monitor hum. Case closed—sunset run.