trapped

Life doesn’t always have to be this wayDangling in this televised fearLike a hand caught in a beartrapBarely holding onCords of tendons and tiny strips of skinTwitching weaklyFrom the fading currentCarried in the last unseveredFibre of nerveFinally, the hand stops movingBut the arm still spurtsRed lifeMuscles pulsing in vainTrying to closeA phantom hand.Trying to will…