And I Don't Want to Fall Again

I tripped.
And fell. This hole was seventeen thousand miles deep.
And narrow.
And lined with clippings of magazine 'DON'Ts.'

I kept falling.
And didn't hit the bottom.
And haven't seen any light.
And just hit the gravel now.

I was moving so fast that upon impact that I disintegrated.
And now my cells have been scattered across countries that I've never been to.
And I doubt that I'll ever go there to retrieve them.
And it may hurt. But my systems aren't connected anymore.

I want out.
And I want to reform.
And I don't want to fall again. Not like this.
And I want to stay quiet and regulated and find a home and learn how to not cry and maybe break an arm bone so I can know how it feels and find someplace that likes broken things and meet some one who has some glue.