Some days I wake up and the sun doesn’t shine as bright.
Nothingness engulfs me and numbs my heart.
And the load I carry doesn’t seem as light.
These days, the blur, I seem to know exactly what it is.
This thing, it has a name.
So why does it seem that this is what I can never say?
It knocks on my door at 3 AM like an unwelcome visitor,
A guest I cannot keep out or hide from.
My days become meaningless,
The hours creeping by and
My body’s on auto-pilot
What I can never say.
Because, who would really care?
Vanity rules the world
So if it cannot be seen, it isn’t really there
It isn’t really there?
I can’t see it. I can’t touch it.
So it must be an illusion.
The silent killer.
The sorrow that hugs my heart tightly and won’t let it breathe
While I walk around in pain,
And paint a smile on my face so no one notices
What they can’t see
And what I can never say.