Portia’s Best Attempt at Condolences Sounds Like a Pre-Recorded Message, by Rachel Reardon

The ethereality of dead weight in a backdrop of red
Makes me lose my strength--my security--along with him
No one could have ever expected that he'd do this
And now there's a woman named Portia talking to me
She's from the ambulance, she looks like a statue
And Portia's best attempt at condolences sounds like
A pre-recorded message, she's said it all before
Almost personal with names and with circumstance
But I feel nothing from her...or maybe I'm just numb
I hardly speak, but somehow say too much, enough
For Portia to notice I'm not quite right and she asks
If I've seen a doctor lately, which would make me laugh
If I could laugh now, but I can't and say emotionlessly
That there isn't a cure for crazy, she takes this badly
She was finally acting concerned and I pushed her away
With my bitterness toward people who don't understand
I apologize since I have to, the ambulance is gone soon
And I wonder when it will be coming for me instead
Not a distant date, I assume--who do I have left now
To make sure I'm alright, now that he's only a memory?
Just me
...And that certainly can't be good.