I should be in pain—

My eyes should be glazed,

Sunken down to the bone.

My words should be short,

And my yawn should be a roar.

 

I should be miserable,

And I definitely shouldn’t

Look at the raindrop on my arm

And see a sunflower bloom.

 

But what can I say?

 

How are your feet

Supposed to hurt

If they’re swept off the ground?