The water hits my skin like the rain on a December night with grey skies that hide the sun. I can tell it’s warmer though by the steam that’s left droplets on the back of my neck and, the shower curtains. I sit there with my knees pulled up to my chest and, my face nestled between them with my right cheek exposed to the warm water that turns cold as it touches my skin. I let my fingers play subconsciously with my toes as the maroon on them is starting to chip.
I dreamed a dream from a broken world,
Of a world without cracks,
Of a world where laughter bounced on the canvas dome of limitless hopes,
Of a world where literacy ran through the tender hands of children and not rivers of blood,
I dreamed a dream from a broken world.