They said you made me and that’s why I’m here.
They said if I fell down to my knees and looked up toward the sky, I could ask for help.
They said you listen but you don’t speak.
They said your answers come with the gusts of the wind, the same wind that dries your eyes and wakes you up.
So if you’re really up there, I ask for strength to get up off of this floor I’m curled up on.
If you can heal me, close the wounds on my knuckles I created just now, and remove the scars on my arms and thighs.
I can’t speak right now, could you let them know I’m sorry?
I think you already know I’m sorry.
I didn’t try to push them away.
I never meant for it to be like this, but of course if what they’re saying is true, I owe the faulty construct of my mind to you.