I Was A Cell Once, And Young

Too pretty to be a boy, the doctor said,

Then passed the little ball of meat down the table,

Past candlelight, the delivery room must have been dimly lit

For them to have thought me beautiful.

Now I am a skyscraper of cells,

Everything in its right and natural place,

My fingers long, my hair full of oils,

No matter what I do I will be a statistic.

I have no problems with being a statistic.

I know I am just a ventricle in a leaf of a tree

In a wood that used to be surrounded by more woods

Before they built more railroad tracks and churches.

Every day I grow newer, I feel no different

Today than I did when I was foaming in the pit of my stomach,

When tears ran freely in the face of failure.

Now I own failure, it's my faithful girlfriend, have you met her?

Stop me, I'm a tycoon, every day I own something new.

Today it's my life, but tomorrow it could be another's.

I am a terrible gardener, I let things sit in the sun

And forget to drink water three times a day.

The doctor says I'll get pancreatic cancer and shrivel up.

I tell him I'll outlive his life, his son's life and his practice

Because when the doctor dies his hands go with him.

My work is not finished, I am still lying my hands down,

Bony headstones above muddy graves. I never saw it rain

But I remember it like I remember being born.

They tell me that they knew right away I was no boy.

They tell me to be a man and I admit I am confused.

They say you'll be fine, you'll make us proud, son, grandson,

Someday you'll be even bigger than your words.

Then why do I feel smaller than dirt.