You stand alone,
palms forward, feeling
for the faint traces of these
walls of your own devising.
It isn’t surprising that your cries
for assistance fall on the deafness
of the maddening crowd. For crying out loud,
won’t anyone help this man?
It is apparent that this transparent box
has him perplexed. Every exit is sealed
in his mind. If he can only find the door.
He stands, silent tears streaming
for this seemingly simple mute.
Maybe it’s time to speak his mind;
A bitchin’ time saves mime!

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