Cereal
It’s over.
I bite my lip and my cereal tastes like blood.
Something’s been taken from my hands.
I look around wondering what I’ve lost.
The music of life holds me still.
My hands grasp for the unseen air,
And I sigh, just because I can.
I shake my head for no one to see.
And no one ever does.
My nose sniffs, why?
My ears hear, how,
My lip still bleeds.
And my eyes are blind.
My eyes are blind and don’t speak for me.
And my feet have, my feet are, and my feet will always—
—run