Maybe start again
Maybe reach out to pluck the blue moon
They wait, twinkling, sparkling,
Like stars in my eyes
I can't see I can't move I'm trapped and there's all this beauty and sun and lights but I am in this shadow box on my wall looking at my children looking at me and I don't know what to say to them my words stuck in the cracks their father made and my stepfather made and the hole that my father left and my mother carved and I look at them and wonder what matters? What matters? And why would I want to start again or reach out to pluck the blue moon when all I want to do is...
Run.