I welcome the wind.
Thrashing against my back.
Recklessly.
As if I don't feel.
As if I'm a non-responsive object.
I welcome the sound of your heart beat.
It tempts me more than any repetition on earth.
Blindly, I run through the woods in search of something that is similar in worth.
But only stumble on the water crashing upon the rocks.
Why do I feel so lost...but also so found?
Deeper into the things I don't understand.
Contemplating the words I refuse to comprehend.
Pushing the plates of others onto the floor.
Everyone is deaf.
And quite happy.
They'll just get another plate.
They have no worries.
But I do.
That plate I designed, molded and cared for.
Should I be considered inconsiderate for pushing plates?
Or am I simply ringing the bell of warning.
Because whoever is getting paid to sound the alarm, has definitely slipped into a coma.