apathy to learn of morning come
and measured growth is all I want.
pain and screams from hands so wrung
and routines exist for comfort, numbed.

feel warmth from memory alone,
and I cannot remember why I try.
when things about, are all I know,
there is a hole my size, to hide.

from behind this picture frame,
I notice glimmers, softer strides.
this trodden stone so worn from rain,
but I stand solemn, beside my mind.