The torrent of sheer pain

searing through my head.

Strange flashes inside

and then emptiness,

always close at hand.

I have a habit you see,

of pure silence in pain.

Losing track of pain? was it?

was it there?

Emptiness you see,

its effective

A tragic remedy misinterpreted

as uncaring by most,

as hate by others,

and even mere naievety

by a chosen few.

And I in silence

bow to their searching gaze

and exit stage left

to weep in a dark corner

deep inside.

Or maybe, to stand still

in the emptiness,

gazing out with unseeing eyes

at nothing in particular,