A poem by Sofia Sears

am I bitter for these wishes/I hold/that stale and sour underneath the mold of passivity/these dreams dried and crunched/broken leaves toasting on the ground/or do these wishes float away/specks of dirt on still water/lifeless ashes dancing up into crevices of chimneys/are they stuttering choking on blood/dried and sticky on my lips/do I too/become deformed and unnatural/sick with the waste building up inside of me/no way out/no way in/do the wishes eat me/or do I eat them?