How can it be,
When you there’s a whole host of interactive technology,
That we feel more lonely?
Isolated in four walls,
My cast, a microcosm of my prison.
Wrapped like a mummy from elbow to fingertips
I sit and try to ignore the pain.
It Sears through my brain
Ripping, tearing and pulsating through my train
But the longer it lasts, the higher the walls grow.
At first they’re just bricks, protecting and housing pain.
The white plaster encasing, supporting the agony.
But 21st century leaks through and comments, texts and calls are made…by
Those you recognise as friends.
You sigh, I’m not alone…
Then, time runs out.
An invisible stopwatch of friendship, you feel you should know about
A black out ensues.
One that lengthens the minute by minute pain.
You know, deep down, life goes on
So you mop up your one handed attempt at breakfast along with your tears
And silently soldier on.
Those brick walls have thickened to block out phone signals now.
Only monosyllabics squeeze through.
The monotony of pain becomes your routine friend.
You even ignore the lack of thank yous for your attempts to work through the pulsing pain.
But the cast is so tight, nothing is getting in
And I can’t breath. I’m a has been.