Self-Quarantine

By    

how ironic.

self-quarantine was already
a part of my daily routine
rushing to return
where I can be unseen.

the walls of my bedroom
still leave room
for worries to inflate
until they fill all the space
I have left.

any excuse to be a recluse
felt welcome
but this isn't the outcome
I wanted.

plagued with fear on a daily basis
my oasis has always been tainted
how ironic.
the virus I'm afraid to get near
already lives here
in a brain I can never

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem