When the last
of the strength
I didn’t think
I possessed
disappears,
the long white lifeline
makes its home
in my ears
and speaks
the words I
need to
hear.

When the only
words in my
head are the
ones being
screamed in
my own voice,
the words of
the broken
replace them.

When the people
I love the
most sing the
words I need
the least,
and the ones
I turn to
are the ones
turning the
other way,
and the only
thing I can
hear is the
music of my
misery,
and I become
the meek
and the weak
who we fear,
and even the
person
looking back
in the
mirror is
gone,
the words
of the ones
who can never
leave me
are the
only ones to
see me
cry, and
weep with me.