Synesthesia

See it.
A person wrapped in the fetal position
Door slightly creaked, a small hope
Pale skin and sad eyes
A single tear falls.

Hear it.
It speaks a quiet “Hello?”
A voice so small, nearly miniscule
Others hear
And hear nothing.

Touch it.
It feels like titanium, so hard and cold
Constricted within itself
A cage built of fright
Bolted and locked.

Loneliness.