Fill in the Blanks.

Worried, not only for oneself, worried for the impact that ones presence has had on others, specifically the few whom I’ve encountered & cared for.
Cold are my fingertips as they run nervously through my hair, tempted to tear my scalp right off of my skull.
All this emotion, yet here I lay, lingering in bed.
Curtains drawn.
Birds singing, squacking & screeching their symphony of praise for Morning.
Dawn’s first lights begining to reach our atmosphere.

Wasted were the words I whispered, words you didn't want to hear.