wearing injuries like medals and ribbons
wondering how this came to be my life
is there a place for wondering if my illness
consists of the failed attempt to exist
alongside ignorance and antipathy
i weep for the wasted hours and days
i scream for relief as the pain spreads and spreads
others go down like ducks in a barrel
and i scream again and again
lock me up then and keep me safely
away from ears and eyes and hands
sick with sympathy and downed by dread
shutter the windows of my soul
bar the doors that lead to light
close the agency of my anguished life
is it peace that i have found in
solitary confinement of my heart
or only another piece of pain


Louie Spooner Bucklin   copyright 2017

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