The Furthest Thing From Poetry.

• what if •

My mind goes crazy at the smallest things
Like a rabid dog put on a leash
They're twenty minutes late?
They're dead, of course.
Stomach cramp?
You're dying.
Small tone change?
He hates you. Shut up.
I know it's not true, but I can't help but think
What if?
What if my head is right?
What if...
Of course.
I always bring myself back to the same thought.
What if...?