Flailing

You leave it to me, to destroy at my leisure. You make no attempt to slow or stop the process. You sit patiently and watch me tread so lightly, waiting for the final flinch. Waiting for you to snap. No warning signs. I'm acting blind in bomb-filled land. One misstep and I'll be gone. And, then the polluted air will refresh your lungs as you come to finally breathe easy as you hose my intestines down into the sewer drain.