And... (a sort of maybe poem)

Thoughts die on your tongue, unspoken, though not forgotten.
Not by far forgotten, as some thoughts can never be,
No matter how many times you bang your head,
Regardless of the seconds it takes to slit your wrists in agony.
Forgotten, never, trapped eternal inside your mind.
And you here, to look for them eternal, waiting for the day.
The day of the next gut punch, the day you topple over.
But time passes and you remain erect, standing,
On your pile of glass shards and dirt,
Alone on your mountain of things unsaid.
And you think how sad, you didn't even get the time,
The time to mourn, the time you might've liked to say goodbye.
And now, you never will. Days pass, life wraps you once more in its' merry dance.
And that little scream inside your head grows ever weaker,
The ache in your heart turned numb, though never fully gone.

And one day, your ears go deaf and your heart turns to stone,
And you're finally happy, 'cause you got what was owed you.