Ebony

I feel so alone that it makes me want to scream,
to relieve this tension tying me in triple knots,
but I know that if I were to open my mouth, release a decibel,
I'd be told to keep it down,
drown it out in the flavors of the only thing that ever seems to make sense.
Music.
Any even then, that release would be cataclysmically minuscule that it would only make me laugh until I drowned in my own tears, because this shit is just irony, bittersweet, making my lips pucker like I'm tasting you again for the first time, and I don't like it one tiny fucking bit.
You,
you were never my favorite.
But you were right,
I'm a liar,
a saint among the unholy and a pariah for things I don't believe in.
I am being crushed,
reduced to the ashes that will never scatter,
under all this immense pressure that nothing has put on me,
but that I'm afraid I would feel even if I were to spontaneously
disappear.
Would anyone really ever fucking care,
if I went silently into that cliche, swallowing maw of night
Or would they save face, move on, give up, grow taller and spout more fucking lies.
Because I can't fucking take it anymore.
I've been on a silencer for years, and the volume has built to the crux and I just want to burst,
explode every thought I've ever had, every inkling I've ever really been right about while I tried to lie, take blame, move on from being in the spotlight and burning out too dim.
I want to let you know how I really feel,
how I've always felt.
But then I remember.
It doesn't matter anyway,
because the only thing that really is worth a damn,
is dying.