Acidic Art

It Comes in Threes

When I opened my eyes I couldn't breathe

For Three minutes, they panicked

But then I cried

And you sighed in relief with a smile

The first Three days you were afraid to lose me

Holding your breath and praying

Every time I seized

The sad thing is, when that pain ended

More sprung from a different spring

And maybe I would have traded it back if I could have

Motorcycle. Airplane. Gun. 

Then nothing

It took me Three more years to finally let people in again

Three isn't my favorite number.