Behind closed doors,

In the darkest room,

Silent and invisible to many who pass,

And known by only one person,

It dripped black inside me,

The self-loathing and hatred reside stained my mind and soul;

 

Tear streaked cheeks and red eyes from quiet sniffles,

It was a common occurrence;

It was a cycle of suffering and hiding

Away from the prying eyes of loved ones and friends,

I had been caught in a black trail of shattered masks of glass;

 

As distant as one was and the time it had stolen from me,

I had used those feelings as my inspiration,

After having been caught vulnerable that is and the horror in their eyes,

Oh, how the crystal tears of their horror catch me red handed in a black pool at wits end;

 

A mask having been destroyed from their gaze at me,

It had made me realize what I had become,

Their fear-stricken eyes showed me what I’ve done;

 

And for once I had the sense to see what its been doing to my surroundings, blinding me,

I had acted like I knew, as I had nothing to lose, only to see what I could’ve lost;

 

The looks and tears from realization had become my inspiration, pulling me from the darkest depths and back onto the shore out of the dark waters and savoring the sweet scents of living and the inspiration of my melancholy.