Catatonic
They say to stop flailing because it’s annoying.
So my movements slow down…
Still flailing-
But in slow motion.
Still speaking…
Even though they can’t seem to understand.
Eventually swaying gently.
Like a porch swing.
Or like seaweed at the bottom of a lake.
Eventually running out of words.
As if I had said every word and idea in the universe.
And maybe I had…
But I will never remember.
And they will never admit it anyway.
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