My hands stutter and shake. They flake

falling apart like they never worked at all.

My voice stumbles, it tries to resonate with

the clouds in the sky, but it sinks to the 

bottom of the ocean. I paint my face with 

vibrant colors, trying to be seen. Yet, my smile 

falters, my eyes water, and my nose twitches.

I sit on the floor, the concrete cold beneath me.

My hands touch and feel, they grab for the 

blades of grass only to grab fists full of air.

The taste of the rain bitter on my tongue, coating

my insides. I shrink to my core, wanting

to disappear. I let myself break, crumble, and 

shatter, wondering why it is only raining on me.

I stand on shaky legs, like a newborn giraffe,

waiting for my legs to support my reaching intent.

I grab the air, climbing it like a ladder, dragging

myself up. I shriek and wine, yelping like a 

newborn for my lungs are too small for my body.

I run at the walls of my enclosure, my feet feeling

earth beneath me. I dig into the dirt, grounding myself,

waiting to pounce. I stand perfectly still, blending into

the corner. The walls phase in and out of reality, 

mistaking me as harmless. I run once more.

My teeth grind together, my fists pacing at my sides,

my legs swift below me. The world blurring as it 

moves past me. Shapes that once were objects

but now abstractions. The walls blend in to my 

peripheral. My mouth tastes dry, my eyes sting 

with cold wind, my ears ring and buzz, and my once 

fetal lungs expand.

Here I stand proudly outside. The grass tickles my feet,

and the air is moist and sweet. The sun, for the first time,

shines on my pale and dry skin. I breathe with relief rather

than stiff gasps. I laugh with my true voice, unlike 

my wails of pain. Dried trails replace my salty tears.

The world is warm and comforting, no longer in 

its previous shades of cool.