Words enter the ears, and at first, don't seem to matter.
But, anything, after awhile, can get to you.
This is what happens behind the face and above the throat.

Words infiltrate the brain, and after awhile, everything hurts.
The words sting like a thousand Japanese Hornets to the palm of the weak hands, grasping on to every last sting only because they long to feel anything besides numbness.
This is what happens behind the face and above the throat.

Words filter through into the heart, where in the end, they don't seem to matter anymore.
The emptiness has completely consumed all of my being.
This is what happens under the surface and behind the mask.

Feelings pass to the hands where the rope is held, because in the end, I was never worth it in the beginning.
The hands swiftly but precisely tie the final knots that would solve all the problems.
This is what happens behind the mask of depression and in the pit of miserable hopelessness