stretch

a body broken and a soulful spirit torn
how unfortunate that i am this before i am born
brokenness has not been a state, it was an illness
and it stung me out like death's thorn

it withered away my every will and every thought
why must it be me who must wrestle with this lot
give me peace, give me depravity of this
i want a home, and not this hell hole of rot

yet with this whisper, you call for a move
to stretch out my hand, to come to you
even when i cannot move with this wasted miss
it is through broken movement, i am healed through and through