You won’t look me in the eye,
And I can’t help but wonder why.
Your gaze drifts to the floor,
As if you’re not sure you’re wanted anymore.
All I want is your medical history,
Yet you keep yourself a mystery.
Silence is all I receive,
What is it that you grieve?
Is it sorrow, is it shame?
A past too dark to ever name?
Is it just homeless shelter you seek?
This is a clinic – sorry to be bleak.
Is the grasp of law you escaped?
I see your arms are a bit purple and misshaped.
Is it the shadow of addiction that follows and lurks?
Don’t worry, I won’t share your quirks.