It seems the vows we made
mean different things to you than to me.

I thought you the one.
I thought you'd treat me better.

My scars say otherwise.

All of this pain. All of this madness.

What did I do to deserve it?

The answer, it appears, is nothing.

It was merely your overwhelming desire
to control every part of me.

I don't doubt for an instant
that you would have denied me the benefit of breathing

were it in your power to seal my lungs...

I am just a number.

I am a statistic on a corporate spreadsheet.

I am a data point for marketers to sell.

I am a profile for the government to monitor.

I am a nameless figure for cameras to track.

My life has been reduced to mere

ones and zeroes.

File names and report headers.

Here in the digital dissonance

I am no longer human.

I'm alone down by the river,
but that's quite alright with me.

I'm alone down by the river,
where it's calm and clear and free.

I'm not much of a city boy,
I hate the smog and crowds.

It's busy and it's hectic and
it's chaotic and it's loud.

I'm alone down by the river,
there's a gentle summers breeze.

I'm alone down by the river,
there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

The wind rips through
my meager clothes.
As I walk down the
long wooden rows.

The forest is dark
and dense.
My pain is severe
and intense.

There's little hope
to be found.
In cold
and desolate ground.

If I go back to school,
they'll beat me.
Out here natures wrath,
may defeat me.

Still I plod on,
Awake and alone.
Hundreds of
miles from home.

Staring at a
weathered old map
to keep alive
my hope to go back.

But I've got almost
nothing to give.
Very little of my life,
left to live.

I wonder: When
everything's over
will they remember
the kid from October?

I am here, but you can't see me.

I am close, but you can't touch me.

I am thinking of you, but you don't know it.

I am praying for you, but you don't hear it.

I care for you, but it may not be obvious.

I cry for you, but keep my tears carefully hidden.

I am here.

How different would things be if I weren't?

I am here.
I am breathing.

Blood flows through my veins.
The warmth of the sun touches my skin.
A soft breeze wafts through my hair.

I can see that which lays before me.
I can hear the sounds of the world around me.
I can smell a faint sweetness in the morning dew.
I can touch the petals of a delicate flower.

But I do not feel alive.

There's a reason,
but I don't know why.
There's plenty of tears,
I wish I could cry.

There's no lack of heartbreak,
or emotional crashing.
So why do I seem
So devoid of compassion?

Maybe this emptiness,
is the last thing I've got.
Maybe she took
so much more than I thought...