I bite the hand that feeds me
So maybe it’ll let me starve.
Day in and day out,
Staring at the outside world,
Wondering if i’ll ever be able to see
Or feel
Or taste
Or touch it.
Stuck in my room
With my mother and father.
Feeding me
And bathing me
And tutoring me
Because I can’t do it on my own.
I can only move my head
And my hands
Due to a severe injury during birth.
Every day
I look out my win...