The worst part about falling to pieces is that humans can do it so quietly..

Loneliness is a strange sorta thing. 
    
    It creeps up on you,
     quiet and still,
        sits by your side in the dark,
          strokes your hair as you sleep.

A constant companion, clasping your hand only to yank you down when you're struggling to stand up.

     You wake up in the morning and wonder who you are. You fail to fall asleep at night and tremble in your skin. You doubt you doubt you doubt 
  Do I 
   Don't I 
    Should I 
     Why won't I 

Wrapping it's silk fingers around my neck, though I gave in, the squeezing never stopped..