Plant my feet and stand up.
Full height.
No apology.
Blood, oxygen, life.
My life.
Keep moving.
Hand across the scar.
It’s part of me.
Like Ayrshire rain or the waves at the shore.
The words.
The work.
One day I’ll be gone,
but not today,
not today.
You’ll have to drag me,
off this fucking planet,
out of this life.
It’s mine.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
