Poems for the broken (that probably aren’t poems) - To those who disappeared.

Howling, drowning

Gone, Missing.

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You howl while you live,

Complaining about how it’s unfair.

Sniveling, boasting, thinking you’re the best.

Those are the things you howl,

The things you project.

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You drown while you die,

Feeling the pressure seep in.

The expectations suffocating your peace.

Everything you expect from yourself,

Is what’s slowly killing you.

It all seeps into your lungs,

Contracting them and keeping them from expanding.

I watch as you and I can’t breathe,

Clutching at our chests,

From too much pressure.

It’s killing us,

Yet we still project that we’re fine,

That we’re still better then them.

That nothing bothers us.

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You pretend it’s gone.

Everything is gone.

Everything you know.

All you do is project,

Project until you forget.

Until you can’t feel your ribs constricting your heart.

You fake until the pressure,

That tight feeling in your chest that comes from failing to cry,

Until it’s all gone.

Until all you know is projecting and faking and failing and forgetting.

Until you’re alive with the knowledge that you kept yourself safe.

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I watch as they wonder where we went.

I watch them ponder how we went missing.

How we slipped between their lives,

Between their memories,

As we slipped through.

There one moment, then forgotten,

Forgotten until we’re missing.

Missing from their newer memories,

How they can remember our laugh,

But not our face.

Not our voice.

Not our lives.

Not anything but our laugh.

I watch them realize we left without them noticing,

Without them caring,

Without them missing us.

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