One Red Balloon

It sits there, mocking me

limp and lifeless, calling out to me like a simulacrum of my shriveled mind

well aware that at any moment it could

float away

one red balloon in my mind,

floating away

because the branches are not strong enough to penetrate its leather skin

because

because its propulsion comes from within itself

never having felt that painful incision of humankind

it will stay in the sky for a hundred years

because

nothing can eat it, nothing can hurt it

it will look down, I will look down, I will look up

I will see it, it will see me.

because

it knows that I will die while it lives