The world before this was bleak.
Nothing mattered and
Everyone was in constant motion.

Now it’s nothing but sheer panic.
It moves on,
And we stay in place.

I was like this before,
Though.

There was an odd freedom,
About living in solitary.

It felt good
To keep people
At a distance.
Before now,
It was a mental distance.

Only let people in enough,
To feel they’re in my head.

My heart is on
My sleeve,
So everything needs to be
thought through logically.

How can it be thought through with logic,
When everything is under a cloud?

The sun shines outside.
It’s beautiful.

My head is a constant storm.
I tell myself it’ll be over soon.
The cloud has to leave.

It’s quiet outside.
It’s rarely this quiet.

Why should anything be so quiet?
The silence becomes deafening.

The voices in my head,
They are getting louder.
They scream to me.
“Get up! Move,”

When there’s a time to relax,
Sure, but now is not the time.

There’s no reason to go through anything.
Why should I move while they’re sitting still?

There’s never time.
Never will be.

There’s no time to rest.
It’s unnecessary.

You can rest
When you’re dead.