Autopilot

Empty;

I watch the scene unfold,

As if, in a dream.

As if, looking in from above,

Through eyes, not my own. 

Stuck; 

I am pounding inside myself,

While the outside’s calm-

I sit, trapped;

With Me as the jailor. 

Vulnerable

I am weak,

I cry, and sob, and scream;

With a stoic outer edge. 

While I’m dying, each time. 

Alone

Surrounded by a noisy silence.

All that’s with me, is Me;

And Me is the worst person to be with.