Self Portrait by the Things in my Room

 
 A candle lit
 For one hour a night
 When society’s lights 
 Are blocked away
  
 A drawer full of pills
 One to repair the damage
 Of my own body turned
 Against me
 Two to repair the damage
 Of memories I cannot
 Forget
 Three to quell the nightmares
 From which I wake 
 Up screaming
  
 A vase of fake roses
 Half glazed and 
 Half blank
 Set to fit the scene
  
 An unused fitness ball
 Bought on a day of optimism
 And forgotten
 On all the others
  
 A decades old nursery chair
 Lovingly kept and mended
 In honor of the one thing
 I am truly proud of
  
 A pile of half-read books
 To be finished someday
 But I’m not yet ready
 To know the endings