Slumped Perspectives

I catch my reflection, shoulders bowed low,

a tree bent by storms, roots under tow.

The weight of the world lingers, heavy and slow,

like an anchor, a burden, a defeat in full flow.

Friends toss around words, each one a soft jab,

I can feel their concern, it’s a gentle grab.

But here at the table, it’s hard to feel fab,

I try to stand tall, yet I’m still in this slab.

The kitchen feels hollow, the chairs creak with time,

my posture like sentences, missing their rhyme.

A sigh slips away, each thought a small crime,

how do I lift up what feels like a climb?