Maybe if I still cared,
You might silently be there.
Maybe if I let down my walls,
I wouldn’t have to trip and fall.
But what kind of paranoid,
Would I be?
If I didn’t believe,
Everyone was out to get me.
So I’m alone, solitary at best,
Forever separated from all the rest.
Lost in my music,
Vanished within my books,
No one bothers me,
Not even a stray look.
I have two choices and two alone,
I could let down my shields,
Just to get massively hurt,
Or I could live with these walls,
And live with the automatic hurt.
I’ll take the latter,
And live with these scars,
Just little reminders,
Of self-destruction and harm.
Everyday is a struggle,
And with every breath,
I’m becoming less visible,
It takes more energy to speak,
More energy to be noticed,
Leaving me utterly weak.
But my energy is wearing thin,
No more strength to draw from within.
Words become whispers,
And things become unseen,
Is this just a nightmare?
Or some lost dream…
|
|
