Feed Me, Please

I have no hands,  

My mind is empty,  

My lungs are craving 

air and I cannot give it to them.  

I feel useless in this body. 

I have six feet,  

I cannot control the weather, and  

My mother hates me for it.  

I feel useless in the body. 

I am made of glass and rubber.  

I am breaking and melting and molding.  

I am bouncing and stinking and folding.  

And I am trying to see a point, as to why, 

Why was I giving so much and so little power? 

Why can I climb mountains 

and yet,  

I am unable to reach the glass on the top shelf? 

It does not make sense, and so I  

Crave answers.  

I crave to know why the sun shines directly in my eyes,  

I crave to know why the trees grow so high, and yet not high enough,  

For me to climb up and touch the clouds, who I crave answer from as well,  

I crave to know why they rain when I am happy? 

Don't they know that I don't want to disappoint my mother anymore?