Cold.
Unresponsive to the world.
But feels the same pain as the other.
Shells it, as if protecting a child.
Only will it reveal, when nothing else matters.

Hollow.
Complete nothing.
When the pain awakes in sight of terror.
Feeling, equals non-existence.
As blows hurdle off, like hitting a ghost.

A white noise, blinds.
Underneath the screeching, mannerisms convicted by thoughts & feelings. A ***** that reveals the blood of sin.
Housed by a cocoon that walks as a ghost.
Walls taking the form of white, when yellow describes the surface.
Smiles of live skin from friends, but just a mirage provoked by an idle heart. I awake as a voice asks "Are you done in there?".
I hear the rushing sink, see the flow of tears dancing around my eyes.
I wash my face, say "Yeah" and leave.