I found myself lost in memories
that had no physical space.
Although the lights were off,
there were people around me.
However, their silence made me feel
as if I could only see
what was directly in front of me.
Not even witnessing their shyness
that turned to violence could drag
me to attend his funeral
and lie to deadpan faces.
I wear the scars of my anxiety with pride.
It’s gotten me this far,
and depression, well, it’s a friend.
We conversed amidst tears,
fearing the view of a coffin
in which my distant family
buried Granddad.
He’d been my worst critic,
and my only friend.
The only one who told me I was wrong,
yet loved me for my honesty;
something he said the world lacked.
If I’m being honest,
I can’t see my hero dead,
so I’ll stay home and ruminate
over the last thing that he said.
I love you.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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