Posted in Poetry

Failure to function

Some days I struggle to leave my bedroom
The curtains are closed, silence broken naturally
I hear distant murmuring and fear grows
Will they knock on the door? Will they know I hide inside?

I have a list of jobs, not arduous ones
But they require seeing people or
More relevant, them seeing me
So I sit in bed trying to move myself

It wasn’t always like this  
Once I worked & was social
I functioned in acceptable ways
But that was then and not now

So I continue to wage war with myself
Go out of the house, do the jobs
Stay home, feel safe, fail again
What use am I, hiding in my bedroom?

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Author:

I was 46 years old when I begun this blog, female and married with a house full of cats (7). My past is littered with the impact of events that happened when I was a teen. Two loves of my life have been nursing and studying. I just completed my Master of Arts: Media Studies endorsement. My blog will be about the things I think about, that might be better served being written rather than squirreled away in my mind festering. It is the meanderings of my mind as I seek to define myself and my world.

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