Why have I become a broken spirit, reaching out from behind a screen…the more I type using numerous cellular devices, the more agony on my boney fingers…the more disfigured my knuckles…But I am relentless.

Without any concept of time, I continue to strike the keyboard. Suddenly there’s a rancid odor of decaying flesh… My grey matted hair falls into my face.

Who have I become but a cranky ole woman, envious of the youngsters smiles, and laughter I use to hear…

Why doesn’t the sun shine as it did many years ago?

Why am I still walking among this planet with withered skin, and calloused feet…my toenails dig in to the ground with every step…they are like bleeding talons.

Why am I still living in darkness…

Can you tell me why

Am I still alive?

Ms. Vee

8-1-22

10:55 PM