I like to listen.
I can hear you sobbing, I can just about see the way you cover your face with your hands in fear that someone else may see you. I can hear you screaming and calling out for help but no footsteps coming rushing to your aid. I long to soothe your sorrows and I long to show you happiness. I can hear your tears dripping like a broken tap onto the cold, smooth floor.
Is it all grey?
I can hear you calling out for someone, anyone; even within the silence. All they see is insolence. Oh God, oh God, if they could really just listen. Listen to how much pain you suffer and how many times you fell. To how many bandages you wrapped around your own ears in hopes of drowning those violent, villainy voices that lie to you and push you deeper into the water.
But they don’t see that. Nor do they hear it.
But I don’t have to see it. I can hear it.
I can almost see you thrashing and wailing as you stay chained to that truth you just want to run from. I can hear your heart shattering and rebuilding like a broken clock cuckooing at its Master. I long to hug you and tell you that you’re safe; I long to be the one that sees your smile. But I can only hear from where I am. Hear the sounds of you struggling to win that battle you so desperately need to win. That monster you so desperately need to defeat.
But it’s no use.
Because you can’t hear me.
And because I can’t see you.
Farewell, sweet boy,
-Your blind Guardian Angel
ns 172.70.42.236da2
