Light’s on

Whilst memory fades

Photo by Author

Strapped. Struck. Betwixt.
The gasping of remembrance,
for who lest this remain?
It mustn't be for I, for if it were
seldom would the sun rise.

Though if for only the moon
shows its face, there is solace.

At least that is what the empty
hangers say, for they are
far removed from the Yellow
Wallpaper, but as descendants
their tragedies whisper.

However. But. Why.