Myself inside this once shared space
with those who made walking underneath the sun
a symbol status of everlasting praise
are now looking for shade, as from the heat they run.
There is a knot in my throat as well,
it is raw and palpable,
a tangle of tissue making the tears swell,
a cry for help with each syllable.
Me in the present, stuck in the past,
doubtful about the future
wondering how long will I last
with these wounds to suture.
Beyond these white walls
the question to my solution
forever it dawns:
How to be me? How to be human?
