sollicitudo est Monasteriense sub nostrum beds

wake up on the floor.
limbs tucked in,
wrapped around my body for warmth,
protection from a chill that isn't there.
people are shuffling by.
stand up.
stretch out the kinks of a body numb from sleep.
look closer at the mass.
they're happy,
sad,
content.
they're normal.
its like a stream of fish.
they're living life,
shooting the breeze,
carrying on.
the instinct is to join in.
catch up.
take a step.
take another.
the impact is teeth rattling.
forward motion violently halted.
look for the reason.
theres nothing there but a sea of normalcy.
take another step.
this one slow and exploratory.
theres is something there.
pupils dilate and iron appears.
its a bar,
connected to a cage,
my cage.
look around.
i need help.
turn to the people.
they're not like me.
i cant call out,
scream.
they'll know.
they'll know you're not one of them.
they'll know you're not normal.
play it safe act natural.
take stock.
theres a cage.
there are people.
i catch glimpses of another cage in small breaks in between the endless parade.
i stifle a shout.
the normal ones cant know.
carrier pigeon,
message in a bottle,
save our ship.
i must know the sins we have committed to be quarantined like this.
composure.
i must control my breathing.
get rid of the erratic heart beat,
the hollowness in the pit of your stomach,
the feeling that your chest is on the brink of explosion.
i see another cage.
i search more and find another.
there are many.
im not alone,
but i am.
its not working,
my heart beat has reached a crescendo.
they can hear it,
taste it,
smell it,
they can see it on my face.
"help me to be like you"
i shout in my head.
i turn around.
i see another cage.
this ones closer.
its a girl.
she's staring at me.
there is fear in her eyes.
her features tremble.
i silently will her to still her beating heart.
these bastards will have her for breakfast if she doesn't control the chemicals in her brain.
the chemicals that separate us from them.
the chemicals that are causing our own bodies to rebel against us.
i cant take it anymore.
neither can she.
i try to shake the bars.
the fear is diluting from her eyes.
the bars don't budge.
i shake harder.
still no play.
i shake longer.
i scream.
i curse.
a boy stops.
he turns
gives me a curios look from a tilted head.
i stop the commotion.
the mother comes back,
gently grabs the boy by the shoulder and gently reinserts him back into the stream.
it hits me then.
we are the unseen.
we are the lost sheep.
we are the ghosts.