They Said To Me

They said I woke up at 9:32 am. I know better than them. I last slept… Back when there were dinosaurs. They spoke to me in groans, and screeches. They said breakfast will be served. They like to do that everyday. There was food in front of me. But I just sat there, staring. The toast was lively. I didn’t know toast could have energy. I wish I did too. They said the doors would open up. Outside, there is a fence. So I stayed inside. Away from fences and horrible sunshine. A sun which sneaks through the gaps. Is uninviting to me. They said I should eat lunch. They said I should eat dinner. They said there would be bedtime. They said the sun would set. The lights went out. I’m still cold. They said I need to sleep. Breakfast is tomorrow morning. They never lie. I will never die. The lights go out at 9:00 pm. And it wears on me.