Why do you ask me
whether I feel unhappy
and my day takes a bath in despair.
Captured within four walls
only wifi, virtual hugs, no kisses
You assume my house is not a castle
but a prison, in which my body is sleepless
and I should be desperate to get back my freedom
in stead of mourning about the lost.
As if missing fresh air
is as terrifying as being on a ventilator
fighting for breath
blood clots in your lungs.
Nurses in astronaut suits
as your only angels
guiding you on the road of death.