Drawing A BlankLittle pencil, little paper,
What's wrong with him, Momma?
He doesn't look up- just writes, erases, writes, erases.
Is he okay?
Curly brown hair, plain green sweater, but somehow out of place, odd.
Sick? He's not coughing....
Another look- still seems fine.
Can we help 'im, Momma?
Pencil on paper- the only sound he makes.
Can I talk to him?
I glance at his paper.
Over and over, the same straight line.
He's drawing a blank.
LiarStumbling, falling, slipping, calling.
I'm a ghost trapped in a shell.
Biting, ripping, bleeding, crawling.
I'm almost gone- wish me well.
Breaking, shaking, burning, aching.
I'm far too numb to feel.
Lying, crying, making, faking.
I no longer know what's real.
I burn a hole into my soul until I say goodbye.
I'm too far gone to know it's wrong, or to even think to cry.
Breaking off, feeling lost; is this how it ends?
Push me deeper every day, until I'm far to cracked to mend-