Shutdown

Photo by omar alnahi on Pexels.com

It doesn’t take much these days

Oh were we back in the olden times

Where choices and new adventures

Brought excitement

Giddiness

Joy

Where choices and new adventures

Didn’t just collapse her

Today, she stands at the refrigerator

Yearning for a way out

But choosing

The Same

.

Its an over and over again thing

The thing that keeps her safe

Safe

But

Nearly

Dead

Ironic, that

What once was crafted for safety

Now imprisons her

High above, crumbling

Standing at the edge, frozen

Standing at the refrigerator, frozen

Standing in the face of

His pulsing and

Unexplainably overwhelming

Energy, frozen

Standing before the page of purposeful, frozen

Standing before the questions, frozen

Standing before the gaping maw

The Invitation of her life,

Her one precious life, frozen

Again

She chooses the same

Where less always makes it better

Just to thaw a little

Does she

Really

Have

Control?

.

He asks her

Unconscious, profession

What’s wrong with you

And she replies

Everything

But Nothing to be put into words

For your system to compute

And come to tidy conclusions

That exist manually, chemical

.

Everything is wrong

Despite emergency lacking

And what she needs is support

To find the voice within the terror

Within the Shutdown

Digging way deep

And perhaps far back

Cradled

Beyond what meds can do

.

To finally find Her

And where she’s been

Frozen

For so long

The collapse of mind

The mush of executive function

The wordless, stammering

The blankness, the blankness

Everything is wrong

But Nothing to be put into words

But Nothing that fits into old paradigms

But Nothing to be medicated

Frozen

Again

.

A Shutdown

Its the only clue, left without crumbs

How then

Will She

Ever

Be found?

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