Cold, Fragile Creature

We share a name.

Cold, fragile creature

how simple you've become

with a routine you can't escape

trying to ignore a war that can't be won.

Fantasies of what could've/would've/should've been

plague your busy head,

weighs you down with shoulders made of lead

until you collapse into yourself

only to find nothing at all.

Ever-relying on

a nervous sweat to keep you

warm in your cold bed, yet

another self-imposed cage 

to repel all change because 

you and I,

we're not so different.

So you'll kick off the sheets,

finding that same sweat now keeps

you cold, never comfortable

wherever there's home,

so used to being asleep to help

the time pass, comatose on a bed

made of glass, void of cracks

but ready to cave in

to the sound of your voice.

Author's Note

None of us fall that far from the tree.