Dissociation

Michael was moved by misery.

A prolific pain would gather

in his chest, a stinging crest,

and nothing else would matter.

And so he avoided television,

internet, and media sources.

Famine, war, blood and gore,

and blunt, unfettered discourses.

Michael was moved by misery.

So he tucked himself away.

The excuse to become recluse

could disrupt this hasty fray.

And so he locked himself inside

and threw away the key.

Through his grief he found relief

as a mental amputee.

Michael was moved by misery.

People perceived him as strange.

He was not fraught with what they thought.

He’d rather be estranged.

And so I found a man one morning,

who had subtly, peacefully passed.

“A nobody,” they said, when word had spread.

“We had never thought to ask.”