SILENCE

Anxiety is dragging me down to the ground,

Throwing me to the wolves.

They bruised me and spit on me,

Till they feel satisfied.

What am I to them?

What am I to this world?

What am I to myself?

Just a lowly coward, I guess.

Tears roll down my cheek,

I feel paralyzed.

My body would not move,

But it is obedient to the wolves in sheep clothing.

Who were once the people I used to love.

Now I am in the corner of the room,

Where the left me hanging onto the end of the rope.

I wonder if they are satisfied?

I wonder if they are really gone.

I guess they are not done yet.