Often I am an open wound
Hypersensitive, overstimulated
The air hurts
The bandaid that is easy
doesn't let me heal
It is a placebo
with terrible side effects
I drive in my cocoon
- Not to mix metaphors -
fingers frozen on the wheel
I'm unaware of how tense I am
until
Suddenly a man on a motorcycle
swerves in front of my car
bobbing and weaving
to music only he can hear
I smile and am flooded with humanity
When did I become the old woman
afraid to leave the house?
What kills me is that I can't remember
is this new me or have I always been like
This?
Watching people with easy smiles
I study them for clues.
1 comment:
life has its changing shapes aity nd turns and we have to accept the reality no mat
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