Litany for the Undead

For those who are alive but do not speak.
Hands tucked away deep inside their pockets,
Digging for the words to say
But afraid to say what needs to be said.
For those who feel they don’t belong.
Always giving themselves all the doubt
And not enough room to breathe.
Separating themselves from relationships
Because they’re scared of the end.
For those whose past was filled with abuse.
Never able to break out of the grips of hate
That grasp the hands around their necks,
Forcing down words of nonsense
Like nobody loves them.
For those who express through art
But people don’t understand what it means.
Through black pictures smeared across pages,
Dripped with your tears of crimson color
With an extremely fake grin in the middle.
Sheltered you are inside your room.
All alone with no one to talk to.
For those who have been through pain
And have never been put back together.
Left alone on the table
Like a thousand-piece puzzle you gave up on.
Crying yourself asleep at night,
Turning your room into a nightmare at sea.
For those who worry far too much
About what others think or who you are.
For those perfectionists whose lines were never straight.
For those who smile but are never quite complete.
For those who gaze upon the stars
And wonder about the future.
Whether or not they’ll be there tomorrow
Even though sometimes they don’t care
About the roses that bloom and kiss the sun
Or about the birds that awake you each morning.
Sometimes those like us take things for granted,
Then simply forget we’re not alone.