There's a sound within my chest but I just can't figure out what it is
and I think it's the memory of you that's making me exasperated
but the lack of motivation tells me it's something more.
Don't try to tell me you can fix me when my scars are wounds that
only bleed more and never heal, and don't say that
you know the sound of your mind racing through the dark because
I know my tears could sting through your chest and rip your heart.
You say that sometimes we have to get through it
but something tells me your words don't recoil
into you as much as you'd like to believe, and I'm sure the last time
you thought that was when you were six and life
was okay.
The night is as hollow as the day I turned from a flying bird into
one so injured it forgot how to fly, and the sound
my breath makes is frightening because the room is so empty
not even the remnants of my memories can cling onto the wall.
He looks at me and says cheer up but how can I
when the noise in my rib cage won't stop?