i used to write poems
that had more than seventeen
(syllables, i mean)

yet i've been haikued
trapped in my own life choices
that i can't rewrite

and people speak truth
but only a partial truth
too easily fixed

but what if we don't?
fix ourselves, i mean? what then?
can we count to five?

(syllables, i mean)
breathe in, breathe out, release air
till we all calm down?

if only we could
trap ourselves in syllables
and make our lives count.