You've been lying here motionless for hours,
and your muscles are crying for you to use them.
Your shoulders are holding so much stress,
that it hurts you to let them down.
Your back is stiff and every slight shift
offers only creaks and cracks to permeate the silence.
This room is no less bright than it usually is,
yet today it has a darkness that lingers.
The air feels stagnant against your skin,
and it feels worthless in your lungs.
This bed that usually gives an abundance of comfort,
today feels like it's made of hardened ground.
Every attempt you make to to get up
finds its way blocked by fear and doubt.
You hold your breath and push with all your might,
just to find that hope and promise left without you.
Sometime in the night, the fragrant scent of wonder
was replaced by the musky odor of denial.
Today this room, no less bright than usual,
will be all that you know.
No voice will leave your throat;
no sound will make you smile in the least.
The door to the world outside will stay closed,
and you'll do your best to sleep until tomorrow.