Sitting in front
of the television
for hours,
you’ve ended up
watching how to
arrange flowers.
Lost count of how
many episodes
as days turn to nights
and your brain
slowly corrodes.
Your reality is now
that screen on the wall
along with various
bottles of alcohol
that lie littered
amongst unwashed plates,
You feel ashamed
as your life deteriorates.
You have no energy
or will power,
so, alone in your chair
you cower.
If there should be
a knock on your door,
you won’t answer it,
instead you mute the TV
and then silently sit,
praying whoever it is
will go away
and not witness
this life in disarray.

Trying to hide your the mess that you are is sometimes really painful. Lovely poem!
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Thank you.
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