​There is a catch
I hold my breath
my heart mid beat
a brush with death

I turned away
from the mirror
and saw myself
a bit clearer

the muscles tense
a bead of sweat
the stomach clenched
not finished yet

the moment past
my breath let out
I am relieved
of that no doubt

treacherous swerve
choice erratic
perhaps I’m being
too dramatic

occam’s razor
a life, a death
a soul bereft

that lingers on
this mortal coil
to laugh, to love
to live, to toil
M. Zane McClellan
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The Daily Post prompt: Dramatic