Sitting in the living room.
(Why is it called that anyway?)
Things are being moved around,
Other things taken away.
A figure passes by me,
But it doesn\'t make a sound.
I raised my voice and tried again,
But no answer comes back around.
So, i sit here in my silence
As these things keep disappearing.
Nothing i can do to stop
The figure from retreating.
The slamming of the door
Is the last sound that i can hear.
No more footsteps on the hardwood.
No more figures passing near.
But the silence doesn\'t last for long,
For in my head there\'s screaming.
\"What have you done? Where did she go?
COME BACK!\"...It keeps repeating.
It echoes in my mind and I
Can\'t seem to find an answer.
The blame I\'ll take. The pain I\'ll bear
But it eats at me like cancer.
My mind is weak in this I fear,
Although my body\'s strong.
If this pain was something physical
I know I\'d just move on.
But in my head it\'s misery
And nothing makes me sadder
Than the thought of \"I wonder how she\'s doing?\"
And knowing I\'ll never get an answer.