Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on

I cannot help
But to cling
To the memories
Where I once was
Beautiful,

Reduced now
To cold food
In a cracking bowl,
Shivering
Without a blanket,

And typing
Into a text box
I secretly hope
Will delete
This awful thought.