a teardrop

501

I lie there silently

holding on to dear life

right in the middle of the hustle and bustle

i lie, unnoticed and uncared for

aware of the trauma that is unfolding right before me

unknown to the many souls outside

i squirm and turn and twist

aware that i am stuck inside here

my life is in someone else hands

someone stupid or someone caring

someone intelligent or someone in sorrow

my life is just a game of “spin the wheel”

where it stops and when it stops, i have no control of

i only hope the wheel goes on spinning along nicely

only 2 choices i have, yet i am just a mute spectator

into the sea of caring fluid,  i cry a teardrop, a day

as i am just a byproduct

Holding on to dear life

Oh, how I wish

I was not formed!

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note: this is a poetic response to another poem posted in an another website.