My Light

September 6, 2009
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Laying on my bed.
Being in my room.
The walls don't breath.
I wonder if I do.

Looking at the ceiling.
My gaze wonders to.
The fan with three lights.
But four bulbs.

For more than a second.
I try to breath in and wonder.
Why this lone bulb has.
No light.

Maybe its been take.
Perhaps its been lost.
But possibly ...
What if the light is dead.

Never to be retrieved.
Never to be found.
Just dead.

Laying on my bed.
Being in my room.
They all breath.
So why can't I.

I am like the one bulb.
My heart is not taken.
My heart is not lost.
My hearts is dead.

Never to be found again.
Never to be fixed.
Just dead.

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