Contemplation consumes me.
I sit here,
In my bathroom,
In the only place
I am not watched.
And yet...
The gnats secretly
Lay against the wall.
The floor...
It's so cold...
The ice welcomes me
Without any promises.
They come closer.
Why do I feel alone,
When I am surrounded
By watchers?
In a pool of people,
I am the one
Noticed.
I'm like a spy
With no mission.
Why
Must I hide?
No one comforts me,
No one,
But this floor
I lay on.
Amelia Patterson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/watcher-of-me/
