The Quiet In The Bold.

I see your faces, they all look the same. I hear your voices, all playing the crying game.
My steps are different, the pattern is new.
My shouting hurts the most because I'm screaming the truth.
You can't hide from your insides.
Written on his forehead, in black and white the ink will smear; but the message will stay clear.
You won't come back alive. You can't come back from a night like this.
The glow of your smile and the sparkle in your eye will eventually fade.
Gone, until you're nothing but a shadow plastered on a wall, moving only when you're allowed to.
Until the sun sets and you turn off the lights.
And you're off again to get lost in the hour of the dead, looking for a sign of god, or maybe just a hand to hold.
Someone to take you away, someone to find the quiet in the bold.
But there is no silence when you're having trouble closing your eyes.
Just the sound of your thoughts collapsing a thousand times.