I'm all alone,
Once again...
My empty home is
Devoid of friends.
Still, some, they call,
Or show at odd hours,
To share a few drinks,
Or maybe some flower.
It's been a year, or
Nearly two,
Since I've left this house
With something to do.
My skin has gone pale;
It's deathly white,
It's been so long since
I've seen sunlight,
The sun feels so bright,
That star from afar,
Still I shun its gift,
And it shows with the sight.
Of me.
I can't explain why I
Simply stay inside,
Instead of living life,
Taking things in stride.
But still I rise with dry eyes,
And unlike some,
I feel a peace.
A freedom to choose
Whether to rise,
Or follow my
Wild heartbeat.
This poem is literally how I've been living lately. I rarely leave my house; when I've gone outside, I notice that my skin is so white I can see the veins now. Yeah. My mental issues have gotten worse; I can't work. Dealing with people is pretty hard, meds or not. But I still get up every morning, and sometimes, there's still friends who support me.
