short poem. Poem Unnumbered.
Fear strikes steadfast.
And I am left with a hollowed mind, a quickened heartbeat, and a life time of never feeling quite the same.
Tight fists that bang at the door,
crazed, suspicions built by theories.
The soft ticking,
and moving of furniture.
We are clearly at an odd.
The ice maker turns on.
Late night passerby.
of not belonging.
And I am left curled in a corner, quiet in my stillness, alone in my despair, and a life time of never feeling safe.