They think you don`t notice.
They think you don`t notice,
The words getting less;
Sentences are now only words.
They think you don`t realise,
That they now flinch and recoil,
They look to escape with ease.
You shared with trepidation,
Almost like confessing a crime,
Knowing they`ll imagine the worst;
a scenario of their attributions.
They wriggle, trying to be kind,
Thinking up a charitable route,
They leave the metaphor door open;
Closing the internet door tight.
What did they imagine I wonder?
A wheelchair Quasimodo figure?
Round the clock care required?
A life of duty, no normaility?
Little do they know of my life?
Their loss was not to find out.
Their loss was to only brainstorm;
Their loss was in fact, me!