ALOnE

Back on the bed
staring at the ceiling
while all the while,
she can't brush away the feeling.

Depression won't consume her,
she thinks, but she can't shake it.
The music can't be loud enough.
Her parents--they can't take it.

She sings at the top of her lungs
and still can't hear her own voice,
but she wouldn't choose to hear
ANY other noise.

She's tired of running,
so she turns the music off.
A new kind of quiet
fills the room to the top.

She sits back on the bed
hearing no one else
feeling calm and at ease
she talks aloud to herself.

"Alone is what I am.
That's what I've chosen to be.
I did what I said I'd do
by making people scared of me."