Something that fits
In my palm
Something you don't
want to stomp on
With those feet.
Something so small
I don't know
What it's called
Something so bright
As a
Sweet
Apple
That I wonder
If this something
Is allowed
to be
Swallowed
I pick it up
With my
Tiny fingers
I pop it in
My mouth
Like
what
Mom does
With these things
She calls "pills"
And I swallowed
Then I could not breathe,
And I panicked
Coughed
It stuck in my throat,
Turning me the color
Of the toy
That's
In my throat
And then
Remembered
What it was
Called.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
Something that fits
In my palm
Something you don't
want to stomp on
With those feet.
Something so small
I don't know
What it's called
Something so bright
As a
Sweet
Apple
That I wonder
If this something
Is allowed
to be
Swallowed
I pick it up
With my
Tiny fingers
I pop it in
My mouth
Like
what
Mom does
With these things
She calls "pills"
And I swallowed
Then I could not breathe,
And I panicked
Coughed
It stuck in my throat,
Turning me the color
Of the toy
That's
In my throat
And then
Remembered
What it was
Called.
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