Tell The Wolves Im Coming Home

The Fall Of Achilles.

Abnormally blank.

"Such a happy child, he talks so much! He already has so many friends!"

A social butterfly except when I'm alone.
Music blasts in my ears 24/7.

I don't know if I'm making the right face, but after all these years of practice, it seems to convince them easily enough.

"Self pity won't help you." They say.

After nearly a year of nothing, a tear finally slip from the corner of my eye.

An aching emptiness follows.
It's infinite and cold and my wooden heart creaks with achy breaths that stretch my rib lining ever so slightly.

"No one owes you happiness, it's yours to make."

I know this.
But doesn't that mean I owe you nothing either? Or just the materials to create it?

"Everyone leaves eventually. Learn to be alone, your the only one who will stay a constant in your life."

I learned this young.
Meet someone new, take their baggage and feel a little bit of whatevers left of you slide away into nothingness as they walk into the void.

The mirror shows the shell of a happy child. I can't believe I killed her.
I can't believe I killed me.

I don't know if even I'm a constant in my life anymore.

"Life is cruel, you should get over yourself."

Once bright blue eyes droop,
somehow they had turned to the colour of a foggy sky.

I'm tired, but I can never sleep.
It's not like sleeping helps anyways.

So tired.

I just wished someone had warned me.

The cycle repeats.
Meet someone new.
They have issues, and now that you think you've recovered, you assume you can handle their problems too.
You have experience.
Your fine with this.
Until your not.
You crack and then snap.

Lose someone else.

They're gone now.

Bye bye.

It's not their fault.
You don't blame them

There's not much left of me now.
(There's nothing anymore)

I envy them, I hope I get to be the one to walk away one of these days.

As if I'd ever have the heart to.