The Frightened Resident in the white House


The handkerchief
supports the brain process
Where it takes me
is to be determined
The language of my hands
places me with my niche
Sounds that erupt vehemently
are felt only by those affected
Sometimes, my sunglasses
serve as a mask
Would anyone know my real truth
when I stand alone or walk
as if I am crawling?
Maybe then, I’ll have to change my garb
to fit in
Until I make it back

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