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.
This poem is about:
Me