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Dead inside

Do you know what it is to die inside?
To feel so lonely and empty but you can't even lie inside.
That feeling of being so horribly broken that not even a soul can live there.
That there could never be a home in there.
Shadows climb walls in an endless maze. What's left of your heart is torn and dazed. You keep repeating the same old song but you never feel whole at least not for long.
A part of you ran, ran far away. It hid in a cave and won't come out in the day. It breathes but can't live. Can't see, taste or touch. It's lost all it's meaning and left only you alone in your empty damp cell. Dead to the world and screaming quietly.
You are left chasing whispers with your eyes. Going in circles, following lies. This will always be this way they say. You are alone they say. You can't be fixed they say. You are to blame they say. You are hopeless you say.
You're wrapped up in your arms draped in their chains. Rocking in a rhythm that you can't explain. Digging your nails into the flesh of your legs and imaging that this is a good day. Life runs down onto the cold steel floor and  puddles of pain circle you and laugh and laugh. You're weak they say. Just fall they say. Take me take me, just take you away. Yet deep down inside you're torn in such a way that you will live just to feel another torturous day. You deserve the hate, the ridicule, the pain. You deserve to die and die again each day. On the outside you're calm. You appear happy and fearless. While on the inside the whispers keep taunting, they live for this. Yes you're alone, except in your head. But on the outside you're beaming with nothing to dread. You have a family and friends and hope love and joy. And the only thing that's real is your heartache and that loving loving boy.



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