People ask how I am
Almost every day.
And I smile
I say I have been
A pretty good hermit.
They don't see the hundred hurts
That color every current
Interaction.
I have felt disrespected
And I can't
Seem to shake the bitterness.
It hangs on my shoulders
Til I go to bed
Way too early.
It whispers
From under the mattress
That I am the only one
Waiting apology.
The hawk has something to say
About the whole gawdawfull mess
But he talks in riddles
Around me
To the monsters
Hiding under my bed.