Silence Is Never Golden

She lies.

Bleeding deception,
Spewing answers, redundant.
She whites out the facts, as if nothing was falling.
But everything seems to fall from up here.

The stars in her mind align
To form the puzzle that never mattered.
She blankets reality with excuses,
Forming the translucent mask to fit her own shattered face.

She sits atop the world, waiting for anything,
Yet expecting nothing at all.
The voices speak in silent tongues,
Dancing at the flashes of life that pass them by.
She laughs at how easily amused they are with the fiction.
Because the voices don’t know how to live.
Living is reserved for the dreamers,
Reeling around suns, stars,
Imploding to blinding chaos,
Glittering with hope.
But there is no hope here;

Reality.

What a fake; What a misconception!
Nothing is real.
Maybe knowing nothing is better than knowing there ever was something.
She screams, but only receives sympathetic glances.

The top of the world is lonely.

She holds everything inside her mind,
Revealing nothing,
Afraid of losing what little sanity she’s found in herself.
Of course, most people
Would say she’s crossed the line.
But who’s to define normality?

Their pointless criticizing, only wasting this so-called “life“.
They don’t see
That the big picture is as small as a picture frame,
As large as your imagination takes it,
And as bright as the dazing flash of truth
That sometimes filters through the daydreams.

“Daydreams are foolish!”, they protest.
No.
No, only you are foolish;
Foolish for thinking you can change her mind.

The top of the world is lonely.
So she screams, pleads, begs, for anyone to hear.

...Silence is never golden.