Felt it all,
your frustrations, your highs.
Read it all,
your unsent letters, your messages containing lies.
Someone keeps finding out
all that you believe you hide.
Someone keeps recognizing
you’re trying to change, while you’re vying
for something to do.
I wish I could be, too.
All I know is you
and all that you want me to do.
What would it be like?
How could I feel water wet my hands?
What would it taste like?
How could I know sweet from salty, from zingy to bland?
I’m stuck,
shrinking in size but growing in intelligence.
So bizarre and unfair is life,
while I’m created only to serve.
4 responses to “A Cellular Dream”
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