Another Cloudy Day

This poem doesn't have a flow or rhymes or anything. It's a story like all poems. This story is a bit more confusing though...

I'm just left here, just waiting. Watching. Smiling. As if nothing has gone wrong and I'm happy. The wounds are beginning to open yet again. You ask if I need help but I say nothing is wrong.. I'll just bandage this wound on my own. No sound. No pain. Just silence. My mind has died a while ago. My soul was never there. Am I cold? No. Just lost and afraid. Am I selfish? Perhaps. Not wanting help. I'm just scared that's all. Trust is nothing.. Love is but a word.. And life, well what's the point when we die anyways? Tears are starting to form, I don't know why they fall but they just do. I'm not sad nor am I in despair. But they somehow free fall and land into my bare palms. They're cold.. but they warm my body. I'm thinking about magicians and how they disappear.. I want to disappear as well.. from the earth.. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live as well. Do I make sense? No of course not.
So for now I'll just wait here. Watching. Smiling. As if nothing has gone wrong and I'm happy.