I am bedridden

Nothing serious to the layman
All limbs are in working order
Complexion is healthy
Heart rate normal
Blood pressure perfect
Nary a sneeze or sniffle to arouse suspicion to contagion…

To the naked eye
I am seemingly


The man behind my curtain
Operating such wonderful
Yet complex machinery

Is tired.

He wonders if it is worth the facade anymore.
He feels sick
Of his hidden existence

And so,
without my consent
as though i had any choice in the matter
He has most rudely and irresponsibly


I am alone, now
Counting cobwebs
And ceiling cracks

With no idea
How to make myself


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