Recover.

Grasping at straws,
sun-bright through holes in my skin.
Still waking up, waking up, waking up...
I am ready to be done with this,
But it's not quite done with me.
My heart hammers through my ribs,
Frantic, caged fluttering thing
My breast-bird would burst forth if it could.
It rubs it's feathers off and nerves raw jumping and crashing to get out.
My poor heart, strung out, bedraggled.
I'm trying to find a lesson in this
Trying to find the love and lifting height I was sent for.
But the sounds and the furies keep me blind.
Keep me mute.
Keep me captive in my own bones.