Listen

12 4 5

by Rays_Mask

by Rays_Mask

Listen.
Listen.
L i s t e n.

It's hard.
It's hard to always listen

You don't speak. You don't hear them, you listen to them.
Always. Always. Always.
Listen, and stay quiet.
Stay silent.
Silent and Listen are spelled with the same letters.

I.
Stopped.
Caring.
About.
My.
HEART.

But I built a wall anyway.
I've seen it break before. Again and again.

But I listen.
I'll take it in.
I'll help you.

...

We're like the night.
Our heart is the moon, and our mind is full of stars.
We change. And so does the moon faze inside our hearts.

Sometimes others have no moon, it's dark and they need stars.

Then someone listens. Someone gives them a handful of their stars, because our moon is full.
And when it's not. We give stars anyway.

Because we listen. And we're silent.
They trust us to give them stars.
We trust them to repay us.
They don't. They never do.

You start to run out, as everyone around you burns brightly, because you gave them one star. Maybe even five if you cared more for them. And they use it to relight more stars. Until they need no moon.

Then you meet someone else.
They're almost out, too. So you give them your last star and watch as all of theirs burn once more. You turn away, expecting nothing

And then they give you something beautiful.

They give you the sun.
For one star, you can burn forever.
You reject it.
You reject it.
They try to convince you to take it.
They let you speak.
They listen.

...you don't want to take it.
Because it's beautiful.
You keep rejecting. You don't want to burn.
You want to stay dark, and continue to listen.

They give you a piece of their sun.
You're once new moon, the darkest moon.
Turns full.
Full.
FULL.

Some stars burn again, but not all.
You refuse for all.

You cry.
You cry, over and over.
You try to stop.
Keep it in.

They encourage you to cry.
They listen.
Listen.
L I S T E N.

You thank them. For everything. For that single piece of sun you rejected so much.

They tell you that they too, listen.
And that they too, will help.
And that they'll be there.

You're happy.
You're happy.
YOU'RE H A P P Y.
Because you're not the only listener.

You have someone to talk to.
You never wanted to be heard,
You want to be listened to.
Yet, you don't reach out again.
And you spend your stars anyway.

You crumble.
You bent.
You broke.
You're slowly shattering.

You cherish the slice of sun.
It died lighting those stars.
But you keep the dead sun.
Because someone listened to the listener.

T h a n k y o u