The world shrinks to the ceiling’s square, A landscape known beyond compare. My body, a cage, where muscles lie still, Obeying no thought, no force of my will.
Each breath, a labor, a conscious demand, no easy intake, no helping hand, can lift the spoon, can guide it with grace, a hunger that gnaws in this desolate space.
My throat, a desert, where words used to bloom, Now silent and parched, sealed in a tomb. No laughter escapes, no whisper, no plea, Just the echo of voices that once spoke through me.
And pain, a companion, a shadow so deep, That crawls through my limbs, and refuses to sleep. A constant reminder of what has been lost, A heavy, relentless, unbearable cost.
The simplest of comforts, a sip or a sigh, Are mountains I cannot attempt to climb high. I watch as the world moves, a vibrant display, While trapped in this stillness, I fade through the day.
Yet, in this confinement, a spirit remains, That flickers and fights through the aches and the pains. A yearning for connection, a will to endure, Though the path is so steep, and the future obscure.
So know that this silence holds stories untold, Of battles fought bravely, in a body grown cold. And though life’s simple pleasures are cruelly denied, the heart of a human still beats deep inside.
