CW: allusions to Mental Illness

I am eggshells uselessly crumbled into a pot. Mother-shaped fingertips flatten me into soil with hummed song every Monday morning no matter how earnestly the sun burns to bleach me back into something beautiful. Rainstorms only suffocate me further; the elements begin to feel like the teeth of old friends — so I cough up everyone who has ever loved me & cross-pollinate their names into nonexistence. I forget the color of yolk & kill future flowers before they eat me whole. Somewhere in between, I watch myself decay & decay.