When I was a child, images in my mind
Drifted above me like clouds in the sky,

Swirls of abstract colors brushed onto white paper
Made the visually vague patterns become real

How do I get there from here?

I go where one must
From deep inside I travel
Across canvasses that hold the past, present, and future
I follow the words of those who speak silently
Letting me know the next dawn is upon me
But the night is not quiet.
It screams with the pain of those lost,
Who can return but cannot speak of where they are going
Because they do not know where they have been

How did I get here from there?

Until you have lived a blinded life;

Mistaking the voices of others as your own.

Until you have been shackled by chains of hesitation;

Unable to liberate yourself because you do not know of your own captivity.

Until you have become numb to the world around you;

Where pain becomes necessary only because it affirms your already deniable existence.

Until you and I can come to the realization that all we ever wanted was to understand.

Until you allow yourself to be consumed by the silence; finding comfort in emptiness

Until you lie in the dark for hours, questioning why you are still awake.

You will never know how it feels.
To be alone.