Wishbone

I can see them circling
behind the doe of thier eyes
You’d think they had fasted, not feasted,
How much of me is enough for thier size?

They were just “Trying to help me”
Pretending that they were my friends,
Then they put me back in the water,
And turned on the burner again

I feel like a wishbone,
Drying in a kitchen,
Waiting to be broken,
By greasy greedy hands

Wishbone,
I am just a token,
Of someones superstition,
Thier wish is my demand

I can feel them pulling,
clutching and grabbing thier prize,
And I feel that I’m already broken,
sorting the truth from thier lies.

Somewhere on paper,
I know I’ve approved this charade,
Sooner or later,
We sleep in the beds that we’ve made

Wishbone,
I am just a token,
Of someones superstition,
Thier wish is my demand