We feel as do the blind

In dark grief. the human world seems  frail
The self and the outside seem not to meet
And just as do the blind when they read braille
We feel our way without the gift  of sight.

Should we seek escape in film  or book
While unstable in our  little world
Anxiety into the cracks will leak
And take our virtue  so our self  will fail

With no diversion, we must feel the  pain
As sorrow swirls around our heart and gut
And others must not show us their disdain
Nor stamp on our prone body with their foot

The world has gone and with no skin I  roam
Unprotected through this  iron cold zone