Ordinary Matter

I walk along the sidewalk, my heel caught in that grate.

My ankle twists.

I fall and fall

and fall.

My knees, scratched and ripped.

My hands start crumbling

like old leather.

My eyes leak rust.

I break and I break

until I am air,

a little dirty

from the passing cars and bikes.

I am the water

drizzling,

interfering with people's days.

I am the bit of soil

near an old tree,

overlooked.

Overlooked again.

Over and over and over

again.