If I could rearrange my body,
I'd move my humorous bone to my brain
because, honestly, I'm the last one to get the joke.
The sole of my feet would house my heart
so every step I take, Mother Nature feels my love.
My ears would be close to my hands
so when I reach out, he'll see that I'm listening.
One eye behind my head, the other facing forward,
one looking for stray daggers, the other focused on the future.
I'd move some bones to form a breastplate
because I'm more afraid of what's to come than what happened.
I just wouldn't want to loosen my humanity.
Prompt: misplaced bones
