I feel as though
I'm ever so synonymous
To mute
Antonymous to clangorous
I can't seem to transform
These inner vibrations into
The complicated English language
My voice is a broken record
Of "I'm fine"s
My head is permanently inside
A box
With a Polaroid of a smiling me
Smack dab on the front
Never budging at the slightest tear
But, this box is somewhat
Generous
Because every now and then
It'll let me make slits
Where my eyes are
And maybe someone
Will somehow see
How dead
I am.