my mind finds
patterns in the
chaotic fugue
slowly picking
at the outline
eventually unveiling
hidden truths in
the false smiles
and empty gestures

i dislike having
choices decided
for me without
the common courtesy
of pretending to
take my opinions
into consideration
their need to try
to explain decisions
in which i was not
even an ancillary
option due to what
they silently decreed

an occasional absence
is to be expected
but a year of being
treated as a ghost
is a little more than
my mental derisions
can be expected to deny
despite derelict denials
and a constant questioning
of what it is i lack

the sparrows sing
a dirge upon the morning
a sorrowful serenade
of incessant disappointments