Walking around in silent sounds,
needing a miracle-something new to see;
feeling all the nothing that surrounds,
all the misplaced things meant to be.

Breathing in empty air
no room for speech-not even a word;
forgetting all once told-
not wanting the past to be re-heard.

Lost the thing they call the truth,
head's a mess-heart's turned to stone;
no room for you,
but hating to be alone.

Living in this empty life
where is it I've come from?
Burning in the flames of despair-
is it like this for everyone?

Denise