Death…it’s a strange thing, really

Death…it’s a strange thing, really. It tears everyone around you apart, leaving you alone. All alone. The silence was your friend…listening…catching your tears as they fell. Those crystal tears…how comforting it was. The eerie silence let you explore the depths of darkness. It became your friend. But not now…never now. Now the silence swallows up the feeble attempts to create a soft song in your life…it blackens each candle that you light. You stumble and fall…not as agile as before. You’re not as cunning…so quick. You have become dependent on other people. You can’t help it. The silence will slowly kill you. How weird…it’s a mask. You have to hide yourself from everyone else…you want to get away, but, like the silence, it doesn’t allow you to. Making you die inside. Making you unable to stand the pain. Ripping you apart. You can’t stand the aggravation. You are a boat…and you are tied to the dock. The tide is rising and water is seeping into your boat. You can’t pull away. Everyone has already set sail and had gone to higher places…leaving you here…alone. What if your boat gets submerged underwater? What if someone helps you? Is it for better…or for worse? Is it better to tell how you feel, and have a chance to have people take your dreams and your hopes and shatter them? Or would it be better for you to keep them inside, to treasure them…to protect them…from the cruel, mocking world? Use a vault, lock it up, hide the key, and forget about it. Tears are stinging your eyes, but you are looking for your mask. You look into the mirror…is that you? Or is it what your mask looks like? There are so many fairy tale stories that would be wonderful to jump into. You can get lost in them. Losing yourself to reality as you read. You are afraid to go back to your get-a-way…your place to relax and forget about the world. But you have no time for it. And you are afraid to go back…afraid that your quiet sanctuary is full of cobwebs and moss and pollution…murky water…a dried up stream…dead grass…but most of all…no music. But it all comes down to the silence…the cause of all problems. It would listen to your sorrow…. But then it becomes a deep void. And that’s why you cant go back to your get-a-way…no time to water the grass…no time to clean the lake…no time to fill the stream…but most of all, no time to fill the silence with the music of your life. Maybe things will change…maybe they wont…but no matter what it is, you must wait for someone to bring it back again…so meanwhile…laugh.