ii. its hard to move when the body doesn't
▬▭▭▭▭
stuck; broken hands unable to dance
to a rhythm they once knew
obtunded limbs restricted my movements
a crack. my brain screams in agony
as my nerves thrashed
across a clocked out system
what does one do
when nothing is in control
i don't have an answer
i can't find it as my voice fades
my body is paralyzed
no plea could be said,
no hope could be found
definitely a pickle
move; the heart continues to palpitate
beat by beat by beat by beat
it palpitates
one thump two thumps three thumps
blood flows across the arteries
and colors the body from blueberry to scarlet
twitch; a pulse felt in the forefront of the knee
it moves. slowly. it moves.
cell by cell, muscle by muscle
a sleeping body awakens from its slumber
and breaks free.
YOU ARE READING
MY METAMORPHOSIS
Poetrya caterpillar encages itself after its mother left it to grow; silver silk in cotton lies; tulips blossom in solace meadows; the tiny creature rests on a leaf; waiting for wings to grow 《 © disorientedsun | 2022 》
