This what I think about
Setting fires to myself
Screaming internally
Then begging silently for something to put it out
Breaking and melting down
It doesn’t take long to realize that pain has a sound
Your will disintegrating as ashes hit the ground
Evidence of what used to be so loud
No longer around
Just smoke lingering in the air
A smell that stains your memory
Does death really exist if you’ll never forget?
The residue is potent
Choking on choices
The pressure of the moment
Going in circles
Dizziness takes hold
Sense of direction is stolen
With the fog so thick what’s ahead is hardly noticed

Colors of emotions blurring together
Coping has to be the mechanism
To be or not to be
That is the question
The pain is something that’s mentioned
But only the surface is sold
Consequences to actions are given
But living in limbo is not told