In a familiar place I sit,
disheartened and downtrodden.
I fight the urge to admit
my failures unforgotten.
I reach forward as if to touch
with childlike hands, too small
to grab a hold of something sturdy
to give myself a peaceful balance.
I quell this urge to express
my heavy heart compressed
feeling a sense of shame
but there is no one left to blame.
So, I choose the cowards hand
and opt to sit instead of stand.
For fear that once my thoughts expressed
will gain for me just more distress
which for now I could not bear
and there is no one around to share
my heave load but me alone,
isolated and far from home.
