Like Gregor Samsa, I woke up one
morning unable to move, paralyzed in bed
no longer human, just a feasting wound
No flesh, no bones, completely transformed

A crack gradually tore the wound apart
and like a river, the blood began to
flow, leaking all over the room
In horror, I thought of my parents

Can one go out in the world presenting
Nothing but a horrendous wound?
I predicted with horror the look on their face
I longed for nothing more than a warm embrace

I tried to get out of bed, but the blood kept
On streaming, I tried to turn side-to-side
Find somewhere to hide ...I couldn’t
Anytime now, my parents would come in

Amid the oppressive silence, I heard the door open
After staring at the grotesque thing lying in bed
With an immense sigh, I heard my mother say
How much longer do we have to stare at that wound?