By Peter Garcia
Drip, drip, “not again.”
Sweat drips down my back.
Walking this path every day
And still, sweat drips down my back
I would think myself a ghost
If not for the sweat on my back
I pass each day, invisible like the last
And each day, sweat drips down my back
I see people, and they see me…
Do they see the sweat on my back?
I walk fast and sometimes slow…
Which leads to more sweat on my back?
I sit in class and look around
Everyone has a friend… and I have the sweat on my back.
I push myself hard and treat myself tough
Does that cause the sweat on my back?
I talk to my friends,
(do they have sweat on their backs?)
I smile,
and I laugh,
(but is there sweat on our backs?)
I’m doing well
I’m fine
Surely
Surely, everyone
has sweat on their back…?
It’s good to see you
I’m happy to be here.
Then there’s the sweat on my back.
In the morning, I wake
Even then
there’s sweat on my back
Tick
Tock
Time to get up, says the clock
I shower
to wash the sweat off my back.
What lies in the realms of my dreams?
When I’m free from life’s burdens
For those blissful, fleeting hours
Do I, even there, have sweat on my back?
And today?
Will today be the same?
Then, there appears the sweat on my back.