There were no words ever created by man to describe the hole
Not sadness, nor sorrow, Not heartache, nor hopelessness
Not anguish, Not bleakness, Not grief, nor even woe
Surrounded by people, yet no one heard, no one listened
No One Noticed how desolate it had become, so scorched that
there was no sensation of pain, no consciousness of ache
And even all attempts to speak went right through all thoughtlessness
that the world had become.
A deep empty well with a shredded rope just beyond grasp
Sitting mindlessly watching moving pictures in tubes and thinking of
All that was wanted, just for a moment to be considered
And each night grew longer without the sweet comfort of sleep or rest
which inside grew weary and indifferent.
No pill, nor drink would bring it closer, but only sheer exhaustion
Then collapsing into a blank solitude, longing for a fantasy to escape.
Screaming inside a deserted body, which had grown almost narcoleptic
and neglected to the degree of the simplest of tasks which made a stoic,
Sometimes callous exterior.
Saved so many times before, but no understanding of why and a single night
turned into years in which the acceptance of fate took root.
Inside a blackened room with no doors, no windows, Only
the sound of hanging lights creaking above and the trace of rust in the air
All while walking over shards of broken bulbs that used to illuminate