The mailbox is brimming
with letters
flooding the floor
with junk mail and bills
the TV is blaring
a cacophonous row
perpetually tuned
to the same channel now
the lights are all on,
from all hours of dawn
yet the blinds are closed
like eyes of a corpse
as a stench... that's entrenched
in walls and floors
bleeds through the air
like a slaughterhouse newborn
still know one knows or even cares...
where you are...
anymore....
how lonely is your life today?
So deeply poignant and I hope that if we know someone or if a member of our family is undergoing this predicament, we have to reach out and extend care or support.
Kevin, you have brilliantly and vividly depicted loneliness and isolation that can lead to suicide. There are a lot of cases nowadays and in fact suicide t tremendously increases every year.
Thanks Rose! Its partially inspired by my life and people I know. Sometimes leaving your home is like leaving safety and entering a horror movie. Yet staying can be a prison. Thank you for your comments!
There is something so very profound in these words. I am reminded that the volume of junk mail often represents, inversely, one's social worth and real, human, contacts. This goes to myfavourites.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your closure line is so touching and grips every reader. To my favorites.