Misdiagnosis

Stress on the shoulder,
the scream echoes throughout the halls,
beneath the floorboards, into the velvet.

Quiet, not quitting, like an old smoker -

he sneaks into the 'Ladies parlour',
his little eyes watch from behind the wardrobe door.
The world of a woman's tender breast,
TB was such a curious disease for Mother.

Quiet, like the heat between innocent eyes and a precious naked mound.

Her screams echoed the room. Psychosis, not a term - still unspoken dreams.

Oh, how painful - to be undiagnosed, unrecognised.