From The Bed of A Recluse

I try

Everyday

To speak to my Family

Mustered courage

Gone to Waste

All that energy

It took up my day

Calming breaths

Counting to ten

Turning the doorknob

Once again

Venturing forward, halfway down the hall

I say “Hello, what’s going on?”

No movement, no response

I turn back

To my room

Climb into my bed

Sitting, legs splayed

Looking busy

But really

Wondering

What’s wrong with me?

Have I died?

Am I a ghost?

If so, then where is my mother?

To leave me with these people

They don’t even see

Hear or

Acknowledge my voice

Validate my worth

Where has everyone gone?

That even my words cannot reach?

Thoughts?

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