Soup

I sit down with a bowl of soup,

take my spoon, and begin to scoop.

My mind spins as I go through the motion

for it knows no rest.

I hear no commotion

as I slurp and digest.

I stop seeing the food in my face

as I contemplate my place.

Slurp.

My mind makes me see

what I forget I don't want to.

I pass through the hallway

and of course you come into view,

standing right in front of me,

blocking my pathway.

Yet as I chew and swallow,

my imagination I follow.

It's an endless loop.

Slurp.

You ask me why I changed

and I tell you the same

but then again I must be insane

because you didn't change.

This was always you when you weren't on stage.

Slurp.

I realize I wasn't just changing.

With no choice, I was resetting,

and I was adapting.

Who I was dies more every day

with every sharp word you say.

In my head, to you I explain-

CLINK.

My sight jumps to my bowl

and see,

back in control,

that I'm running on empty.