The mask filling my face with humid breath,

stiffening my cheeks with condensation

Held inside,

a greenhouse effect,

where I’m stuck with this whole day

trapped against my face,

never moving forward,

muddled thoughts.

Plexiglass forming walls,

making it so I feel like it’s only me in there,

shameful and wretched

and looked down upon,

having mutated into a twisted me

warped inside that box,

like an animal at the zoo,

all the eyes

visible above cloth masks covering

silent mouths,

swimming in thoughts

of what I think they’re thinking

about me.

Carrying around that screen that

I hate,

with its light that turns my

mind dark,

demanding I turn it on again and

again, all day.

Two years of holding our breaths,

and we let it out in a choking

sob.