34 white sweets

34 white sweets

I count them all
then I count them all again,
just to be sure,
yes,
34 white sweets.

34 white sweets fill my hands,
all exactly the same.
Harmless on their own
but strong in their numbers.

Sat cross legged on the floor,
I look at my 34 white sweets thinking
how sweet the taste of my defeat must be.
Will it taste sweet, like sugar, to them?
Will my 34 white sweets be bittersweet to me?

I take my 43 white sweets one by one
when the clock strikes midnight;
when no-one is awake.

I hear the rain beat against the window;
it plays a lullaby for me.

The rain sings me to sleep,
along with my 34, white, sweets...