I want to believe That I have a high pain tolerance But the truth is I've just never really been in pain And it's awful to say But part of me wishes I had That I could look back And pinpoint the break That left this dull ache behind The wound that's not-quite healed scab Would give me the right To be floundering like this If there were a weight tied to my ankles At least I could forgive myself For struggling to swim And I know it isn't fair And I try to give myself grace But I can't help but feel That these broken ribs Tearing at my lungs Are nothing more than bruised Black and blue, sure But still whole That their bloody fragments Are nothing more than figments Of an overdramatic mind Scrabbling for something sharp To excuse its audacity