Days after being flipped

The pain lingers on top of my head

I sit on the sidelines

Staring out into the open field

The

        Gears

                Won’t

                          Turn

Trying so hard

Yet no progress

Instead

A knife is stabbed in the back of my head

But when I reach to extract it

There is nothing there

The

      Gears

               Have 

                        Stopped

I sleep for hours

I cry for hours

I think nothing for hours

Unable to do anything

Stuck in place

The 

     Gears

              Are 

                   Rusting

No one to talk to

No one relates

I am alone

Becoming mute to society

The

      Gears

               Remain

                          Rusting

The knife no longer throbs

Finally, it is gone

My legs slowly pump across the field

At last, I am alive again

The

      Gears

              Are

                    Slowly

                             Starting

                                          To

                                                Turn