the front

she wants to brave.

she knows she cannot be.

instead, she contemplates stopping time

fighting the ticking clocks

revolting against the whole idea of life

she knows she cannot

and yet she wants to

she cannot seem to understand.

to prepare.

she observes from afar.

with a beating heart

that beats a little faster

when she thinks of the inevitable.

and this fear

and this front

follow her everywhere.

she wants to let it all go.

to slump down,

limp as she can manage,

and fold onto the floor.

heaving

breathing

avoiding.

instead

she fronts.

she pretends.

and she manages to wake up each day

with a renewed sense of life.

what else can she do?

nothing.