Is it like sandpaper?

Like sandpaper being dragged across your head?

 

Is it like getting a warm hug?

Like getting a warm hug from the mother you lost too soon?

 

Is it painful?

As painful like the bright light when the box is opened?

 

Is it funny?

Funny like when cousin Sparky tickled me?

 

Is it scary?

As scary as being alone here, in the dark?

 

Is it bright?

As bright as my smile the day I met my family?

 

Is it cold?

Cold like the draft of being by myself?

 

Is this it?

Is this the end of it all?

 

Is this life?

A life of darkness and loss?

 

This must be.

It must be.

This must be.

It must b--