Mum

I wake in a dead fog to breathe with a smokey breath and stare at shivering trees. The sole star above me quivers, the moths hiss at me. I sigh, quiet, lonesome, keeping company to the muted fishbowl surrounding and I'm wondering how people can become mum so easily, so easily controlled. I hope this neighborhood is not what I become. I try to defeat this warped dream everyday. I hope until hope escapes my head to toe beliefs and until I find it once again when looking out at all of them.