Last night I laid in bed and broke my bones. After I was done, I was so tired, I fell asleep.
I woke up and every bone had been mended. I'm frustrated by this because I broke those bones for a reason. I don't deserve to be able to get up and dance.
I said to my father, "Father, why do I look so nice when I feel so defeated."
He told me that as long as the bones have mended I will be fine.
But I do not feel fine. I still feel like all my bones are broken, and I know I broke all of those bones. And now, as I try to get out of bed this morning, I fall to the floor.
Father this bones are not mended and neither am I. I have bruised bones and chipped bones and they are nowhere near beautiful bones. My bones and I are laying on this cold hard floor.