Half-cut worm

Welcome back... if anyone is even reading this. It's time for a new week, and a new poem. Hope you enjoy this one, it is without a doubt my favorite poem.

Background: So I was in rehearsal one night, trying to focus on my lines when movement on the black floor caught my eye. When I examined it closer, I saw that it was a worm who had been cut in two, but only partially. Half of its body was wriggling trying to free itself from the other dead half. That inspired this poem.

The Half-Cut Worm

The Half-Cut Worm writhes in its sorrow,
Twisting and turning in the dirt,
Dragging along the dead appendage
That is its body, was its life.

And I writhe with it
In my own yellow, putrid muck
My life no more significant
Than that of the Half-Cut Worm

And yet it goes on living,
A half-life, this half-cut worm,
Should I go on living with it,
A half-cut soul instead?