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
Everyone is Welcome! 