My silence,
A weapon,
Hurts,
Everyone.
People,
Always,
Ask me,
What is wrong.
But I,
Just,
Sit,
There.
My eyes,
Looking through,
My hair.
Into oblivion I stare.
My mind,
Is my company,
And I treat them,
Quite well.
All the others,
Question me,
Begging me,
To tell.
To tell what is wrong,
So that they might help me.
But what they don't know is,
In my mind I am as happy as can be.