The voices in my head
all agree it's
time.
They whisper
then laugh at me
and my feeble attempts
to navigate through another day
another labyrinthian set of interactions
with my fellow humans.
Why is it so difficult?
How can I find the courage
yet again
to face each one,
when every
meeting,
every conversation,
is a pit with sharpened sticks
waiting for me to fall
and impale myself upon them?
Others don’t even notice
the red, neon signs
“DANGER”
that begin blinking above their heads
as soon as I walk up to them.
So once again,
I prepare to go out,
prepare to do battel with
everyone who is going about their business
so casually,
so comfortably.
For them it’s easy-peasy.
They have no idea
just how harrowing it is,
how exhausting it is,
every damn day.
Picture prompt from The Sunday Muse.
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