the aching hearts of those
who crave escape from their
own poisonous reflection.
The thought, and then
waves of crushing guilt,
a chilling glance at
inner visions of rejection.
I am caught, I am bound,
crying out within the confines
of my self-imposed seclusion.
Like many whom I meet,
I am hesitant to offer
more than casual concern.
I preserve the sanctity
of my equivocal illusion.
