What are you thinking of? Nothing...

Nothing?

What am I thinking of?

Why do they ask?

Though they listen and answer and nod their heads,

Never do they really hear me.

They think they can help,

But I've heard it all before.

Nothing that they say can save me.

So I give them the answers they're looking for.

I tell them the sweet little lies.

Though all of it's fake and sometimes poetic.

I leave them thinking I'm fine.

There's so much swirling throughout my mind.

So many questions without answers.

So many bombs dropped into my world.

A never-ending rain of injustice.

What I thought was right turned out to be wrong,

And who I thought was good was evil.

Nothing is what it seemed to be before.

When you open your eyes the world turns darker.

Of course I can never say any of this.

Any attempt to explain is futile.

They'll never truly understand what I'm thinking.

Maybe it's depression or a disorder or syndrome.

Nothing could shock me now.

I don't understand any of this, so maybe it's just me.

I was pretty sure I was crazy anyhow.

I stay silent and wonder.

All of THIS clawing and ripping me apart from the inside.

I just try not to think of it,

But that never works forever.

I don't want to accept the awful truths.

I don't want to know that all the good was a lie.

It has come crashing down in waves.

There's no escape from this.

There's nothing I can do.

There's nothing they can do.

The scars are permanent.

There's no way to truly fix it.

Only to make things better.

I keep moving forward.

To where? I don't know.

So what am I thinking of?

Absolutely nothing.

If nothing is "not something",

Then surely I'm thinking of nothing.

For this nothing is much more than just something.