Depressed by the sounds in my head
addressed by the pitter-patter
of empty tears that fall
flying headfirst to the concrete
puddles lying by my feet

Stitched together
by the threads
which ever so slowly untwine
to shed the facade shown on my face

Will I ever hear…
the calling for my eminent end?
Will I ever see…
the place to call home?
Will I ever stop asking these seemingly endless questions
that bombard my brain?
These questions that tug at my heartstrings
like a child who tugs at his mother’s dress…

Depressed by the sounds in my head
yet day by day, hour by hour
the sounds lose its voice
strickened by its finite power
To hold over my head
I laugh, I smile, I cry
Tears of joy that fall
Puddles lying by my feet…