The Process

[br0wer]

A violent twist,
the warmth is gone,
an illusion of hope.
The lurch,
the darkness so bright,
in my head,
the voice,
it doesn't end.
The world moves,
but I am still,
everything is cellophane.
They speak,
I hear,
but never listen.
I speak,
they listen,
but never understand.
Wax and wane,
the days go on,
and I wait,
until I never feel the warmth again.

~EB