Why? Poem by Christopher Neil

The inquisitive mind that binds me,
stares back at my face.
Trying to displace this hate.
But to negotiate is necessary.
Escape runs deep into the ground,
by way of the mortuary.
Can’t stand the torment on this wary body,
which falls limp onto the floor.
Convulsions create energy,
leaving me alone inside.
To sick to move.
To sick to die.
Tears run down my face as I start to cry.
God save me from this pain.
But the only word that comes out…
is “Why? ”