|
| |
Apathy
I wrap my fingers around the pen
which has lain dormant collecting dust
for months on end feeling as if
I'm lifting a fifty pound weight
straining not just my joints
but my brain, its neurons refusing
to fire like the broken burner of a
gas stove with a malfunctioning igniter
fouling the air with noxious fumes
as it fails to burst into blue flame
a single spark threatening an explosion
that will decimate everything I hold dear
My lone gift life bestowed upon me
I once naively believed would
change everything has altered
exactly nothing as my words are
like whispers in a windstorm
to the world, to you
whose image I was deluded
enough to imagine there might
be a chance would match reality
that someone, that you
could actually care
Copyright ©
Angela Douglas
|
|