Numb Breakfast

I flipped on the news, my heart took a dive,

breaking reports like a chorus gone wrong.

Cereal swam aimless, unsweetened, alive,

the milk in the bowl felt like where I belong.

Each story unfurling, a weight in the air,

a shooting, a shadow—a life turned to gray.

My spoon clinks softly, the silence unfair,

while time in the kitchen forgets how to stay.

The blue bowl's cracked rim holds my soggy flakes,

questions unsaid slip away into gloom.

I sit in the light, yet it breaks and it shakes,

and I'm just a ghost, half awake in this room.