Nothing
My fingers grip my hair
They slide right through.
A small tangle in the end.
And my hand falls, it falls to my side.
I slide my fingers through again.
I feel nothing, I hear nothing.
Nothing echoes through my mind.
I see nothing, but I see everything.
I miss everything, but I miss nothing.
I can hear my own fingers.
The scuffle of my breath,
as it stumbles out my mouth.
My head falls forward against my will.
My arms life up, I don’t know why.
I pull my fingers through my hair.
And my hands, they fall, they fall to my sides.
And I hear, I see, and I feel.
And I know, my puppet strings are broken.