Gratitude Poem by Isha Trivedi

Noise around me, but I can't hear,
Motion of lips and strain of the ear,
But still, sound is what I fear.

Blank eyes, like a patch of snow,
But behind these eyes, the things that I know,
These things that I never show.

Unmoving limbs, as if made of stone,
Sitting, staring, still to the bone,
My presence goes unknown.

The things I perceive,
As I quietly grieve,
You would not believe.

Be grateful.