Living in this hell is just living in silence, deafening silence and no one makes a sound. And even though no is making a sound, no one hears you screaming. No matter how loud you scream it's never going to be loud enough. No matter how hard you are beating on the walls, it's never going to be hard enough. That's the problem with listening for this tiny creeks and tiny whispers in the dark just because everyone is scared of it and they have reason to be because living in this hell is like not living at all. It's like not breathing and like you're drowning and sinking in the water but you can see people around you breathing and floating. Like you're crying inside but you see people around you with genuine smiles on their faces and you hear people laugh but the only thing you really hear is the sound of your tears because of how quiet it really is.
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Depressing Stuff
PoetryIn the title, mostly me just venting about life... I write all of these if it's not mine I'll say so *spelling corrections coming soon