The Weight of Admittance

Sitting in waiting, tracing letters with dread,

this bracelet, a prison, a marker of red.

The fabric is rough, like the news I received,

a truth wrapped in whispers, too heavy to believe.

The doctor’s cold voice carved shapes in the air,

while I gripped at my wrist, feeling lost in despair.

Each pulse is a story, a life’s fragile thread,

bound by a bracelet, the weight of the dread.