Have you ever had a singular fish bone stuck down your throat?
Up until now, it was an everyday, and this was just another meal
Fishes for you are a routine really
You've washed them and marinated them, and cooked them and relished their soft flesh disintegrating into flavours your palette has had a fondness for
And yet, here you are, choking on a bone, the eyes can't see and the throat can't feel
And yet every time you even try to gulp down water, it hurts, it scratches the walls of your throat, somewhat like a needle scratching the insides of your skin
It bleeds but you can't see, it hurts but there's no ointment, no quick fix
You wait a while thinking it will move on, and you'll forgive and forget
The bone, is it really just a bone, or a rather flimsy yet solidary reminder of a bygone that shouldn't have mattered
All you really want is to get over with it
And yet, the bone doesn't move an inch
Stuck onto the insides so intricately, you wouldn't even trust a surgeon to get it right
You think you'll wake up tomorrow, and it'll be a better day
The fish bone will be gone like a short-lived nightmare, buried in your sleep
You wake up and as if on cue, the prick of the bone wakes up too
You're scared of your body, your being
Every time your parched mouth pushes down a lump of spit down the throat as a habit, you hurt again
It's not a fresh wound anymore
It's the blunt pain of a cut being continually cut open before it can even stand a chance at healing
Thoughts cloud your head
Thoughts you'd thought you'd left behind
Thoughts you'd think you wouldn't want to think
Thoughts that have transformed mere mortals into mind-numbing poets
And yet, you don't bleed a word
The brain can't gather words
The pain within, asking to for a fix you don't have
Life inside, seeking hope you seem to have lost
You wish for all of it to just end, whatever the cost
Who decides how costly is too costly
As you begin to lose your sanity, drawing inspiration from your withering voicelessness, thrives
A fish bone named melancholy
