A deaf girl who’s prison was her own thoughts
And sight was the root of all her rage
An apple sits and endlessly rotes
A lone body was the apple’s cage
The apple core and her heart,
lay asleep miles apart.
And they both sleep on an old cote.
With paper cuts from the last page
She’s flipping over to see what she forgot.
Once again guessing her age.
Pushing past the last part
once again wishing it wouldn’t start.
