The Weight of Fear

The lumber boards were twenty pounds,

The paint cans one hundred and one.

The couch, I swear, it broke my back,

So bad I wished I had a son.

The house was white and sterile,

Like my grandparents’ nursing home.

No one was there to hear me complain;

My friends had disappeared like foam.

The movers were on the cheap side;

My muscles were letting out groans.

But nothing was quite so heavy.

As knowing I was alone.