8 a.m. Shadows


8 a.m. Shadows

Alone in the kitchen 
tea in one hand
anxiety and depression clutching the other.
My hollowed out body
leans against the oven
into the silence and steam
that surrounds me. 
Morning light glides in
blankets me 
casting a shadow on the wall.
With the sun behind me
a faceless silhoutte stands
in front of a chain link fence
my own mind, my captor.
The light behind me 
highlights the present
obscures the past
and blurs the details of tomorrow.
The lucent abyss of the unknown
better than the comfortable discomfort 
of the darkness.

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