Spectre
I cannot shake this feeling I am no longer alive,
That sometime during this tragedy I slipped away and died.
And how I haunt my family awake at night alone,
This place now feels like purgatory and less and less my home.
I bang the wall and throw things while the living world moves on,
And I wonder if they notice if I'm here or if I'm gone.
Sometimes they turn and glimpse me and I wonder if they're aware,
That I love them and I need them but they always seem so scared.
No matter how much like a banshee I howl and I wail,'
I cannot escape this feeling of being ethereal and frail.
But here I sit both alive and dead...Dr. Frankenstein's creation,
Questioning if my wants and needs are too high above my station.
About this poem
A poem about the isolation of disability, illness and injury and how one feels about those they love and are cared for.
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Written on November 08, 2019
Submitted by mcauley.rf on December 07, 2023
- 46 sec read
- 0 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XXXX XXXX AABB |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 717 |
Words | 152 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4 |
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"Spectre" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/177717/spectre>.
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