Stop. Look. Listen.

Do you see me?

Thriving for your presence,

Yearning to possess the metronome inside your chest.

This armor enclosed is all the defense I have,

walls fashioned over time from reoccurances with theives of euphoria.

Hope with its head held high, has now become a lost reflection of me, in a mirror caked with dust and grime.

I am no longer seen.

Do you hear me?

Hushed conversations live within but will never surface.

Pleas and woes hide in this voice behind forged smiles and laughs.

I am no longer heard.

Logic spoke to me a tale of dèjá vu and though at the start your heart was untrue.

Beneath was a secret even you had never heard before.

But you couldn't abbreviate your feelings and quit the torture.

Now, answers that my judgement sees as repetative are not worth waiting for.