Poetic Therapy
It this poem is called the echoes of the silence running through my brain I do not know if I'm dead or alive it's getting hard to breathe and I can't find much relief from the echoes of the silence that even find me in my sleep the days grow long, long and the nights hold a certain chill that remind me that you aren't here I'm thinking of the good days just to ease my pain all the madness on my brain I wish I could ask if you feel the same blessing missing the days when we would lay and play our day carefree and feeling we had nothing to lose friends wanting to play games but the echoes of the silence keep beating me down and got me feeling misused it's got me by its reins I can't escape the pain of what once was and what will never be the same the silence becoming my friend because there is no one else to depend no one to run to, no one to cry and tell all my shames and pain ashamed of how it ended before it began the pain of the hole you left without even warning my peace is now my torment my laughter is now followed by tears