I used to have tendrils of heart and soul coming out of my head
Unfurling from my curls and hugging the world
Suddenly, they dried up
The world cut them out like deadheading flowers
I felt every inch of it
Kids like me don’t go to college
Kids like me go to war
Every single day i would wake up and strap on my helmet
It protected my head which is now a T.V.
I am now made of clay
Sometimes i can hear you crying as i ‘sleep’
You don’t know it but i can
If i still had heart i would cry too
But now I cry only for me
Rather, for the death of me
For what used to be