If Silence were a song, it would’ve been your favorite.
You’d play it again and again, like notes that beckon,
And you’d always hum along.
You live in this world where everything you see turns into a weapon-
The sun smiles at you and rips out your light with its sharp teeth,
A suicide note with your name on it tears you, cuts you, and reads you, when it should’ve be the other way around.
You are all alone on the streets,
You are all alone in your room,
You wonder if anyone hears your heartbeat,
You wonder if they hear the clocks tick more than they hear your heartbeat,
You wonder when it’ll stop.
If your heartbeat were a song, you’d hate it.
You’d want it to stop playing,
But it’s always the last song you listen to.
They hear theirs everyday, but fail to listen to yours,
They don’t hear how it screams, “Don’t leave, I need your help”,
Your life falls out of your grasp,
And you are left asking yourself what the hell have I done,
You are left with only two choices.
Teach yourself the art of fading.
Slowly, but surely.
Before you fade,
Make sure they at least notice you fading away.
Leave a sign,
Leave it in the bathroom,
And keep the door open.
Teach yourself the art of holding on.
Carve your name on every person’s back so that they won’t ever forget of its importance, or even of its existence.
Then sort out everything in your closet, keep the clothes that don’t fit you anymore as a reminder that you can keep things that you don’t want anymore, but hold fragments of your past.
Listen to your heartbeat.
Play it like the only music that doesn’t seem absurd,
Play it- a violin that always hits the right notes,
Always wounds the strings just a little,
But still manages, to make something beautiful.