Alone, Alone, Alone

The world is dark,

like the color in my heart,

and the people all seem to

be in fast forward as

I remain in play.

They don't even notice when

I cry. Day after day goes by

and still no one sees

the tears in my eyes.

My home is filled with life

except the parts where I roam

and think of using my knife.

Now I wonder if I died would anyone

notice, if I died would they care?

I think the answer will be no

but as Dorothy once said as

she tapped her shoes

"There's no place like home"

unless your forgotten or always Alone.