The Roots That Rot

By Adelle Sepulveda

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Days pass and I am still home

There are voices in the next room, yet I am all alone

Desolate, a disfigurement

Too many thoughts, therefore I cannot think

Instead, I shrink

I become one with the mattress; it embalms me

Like a corpse in a coffin, I loathe

I look upon it- a velvet so dark like cherry

Let me decompose

It is time to rot away in the flesh

Grow a garden on me, and make sure they stay fresh

Let me enjoy them for a time, for they give me brief company

But just as me, and Adam and Eve, my ancestors before me, they wilt and rot

Because that is how one goes

Daunting, it is not