IX

You know, I actually like this poem I wrote. This is one from my numbered series I did in high school. It holds a secret.

IX

Sitting home alone on a sunlit afternoon,
It's as though the curtains were not there.
I raise my hands and shut my eyes
Yet to no avail. The sun strikes down and to none
It matters, but me! Fie!
It engulfs, it drowns, it bombards
And to none it matters!
I struggle, I swim, I fight
And cannot keep upright!
A curse! A wail! A scream!
I fight, knowing the victory not mine!
I surrender down.
My hands fall down at my side, eyes open.
The curtains appear to be always open
When I'm home alone on a sunlit afternoon.