Silhouette

The shining pieces of glass are falling,
Like shards of me too small to put back together.
I can only watch as, one by one, they hit the floor.
I never wished for this madness. Never.

There are too many people.
They're closing in on me like the iron bars of a cage.
And when I turn that corner again,
I'll be lost in a sea of people, drowning in their rage.

And when the last shard hits the ground,
There will be nothing left.
Only empty nothingness will remain,
As though my soul has been stolen; a theft.

In a faceless crowd in a nameless town,
I am unseen. There are no eyes to see me.
There are no ears to hear my cries.
There are no real people, as far as I can see.

I try to struggle free, but I'm pulled back by the darkness.
So through the winter and the fall, I'll lay asleep,
Only to wake in the spring. But no one will care.
I am dead to the world, a dried up leaf under your feet.

A crackle in white noise going unheard.
Waiting for a chance for us to meet, but that day is forever falling farther into my fury.
I can't hold on much longer, I'm slipping.
And then when I fall, but no one will worry.

I am but a silhouette through a glass window.
But I will break through this thick plane of glass.
And the pieces of me will fall, shattered, to the floor.
It's only a matter of time. This sorry life surely cannot last.