Seems Like Always

Seems like always I sit in the same lonely chair, but no one ever hears me, sees me or feels my presence; I might as well not be there for all anyone seems to know or care. Seems like always the same creeping daily routine unfolds before me as I sit, unflinching, unwavering, forlornly serene, the stillest statue sight unseen. Seems like always I stare through the same pane of glass, withdrawn, not really seeing at all, struck blind to the world as it's narrative crawls past, isolated and frozen, alone, alas. Seems like always the frowns furrow into my face and life never visits or takes my static hand; an exhibit confined in a museum case, an insect in amber, suspended in space. Seems like always the silence, no movement or mime, always remains as always does: hauls and goads each fraudulent day; always a sentence in absence of crime, always seems always a very long time.