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You picked my eyes up when they drooped down to the floor. You told me I wasn't seeing clearly anymore. The table scraps that you had been feeding me was a feast, but I am a vegetarian, humanitarian, good samaritan. You always brought out my inner beast. Only this time I didn't want to look at what you had cooked. The weight upon my shoulders was the heaviest part about me. The numbers shown high on the scales of uncertainty. Certainly, you could see that I was wasting away. Offering up pieces of myself with every brand new day. Your smile with a thousand teeth drew me ever closer. A mouth pressed hard against mine that never offered any closure. It's hard to make the right decisions under your provisions. Hard to remember my inner voice, or that I ever had a choice. It seems I have left my organs open to suffering. Clinging to the abuse that trumps being alone. So I will sit and wait patiently for my next meal, while you dictate my worth from your throne.