Laconic, Reticent. Poem by Robert James Busby

I remember feeling,
Happy,
Loved.
Now, the present,
I don't feel, loved or happy.

There are no arias for me,
No one is singing in my name.
Not anymore, like the past.

I'm down,
When you are up,
Riding high on the wave of life.
You look at me,
Ask me why I'm down,
Like I'd have an answer.
I shrug my shoulders,
And say, "I don't know."
What do you want me to say?
For heaven's sake.

Anxiety begins to take hold,
As thought of going outside arises.

What I see as a strength,
You see as a weakness.

Still,
Laconic, and reticent.