The hole in reality,
that keeps ripping apart,
that nobody sees,
but you.
The tossed scraps left
from the world after it broke down,
that nobody would pick up,
for you.
The horrible unending scream,
echoing in your head,
that nobody hears,
but you.
The tender touch,
the compassionate hand,
that everybody extends,
to you,
but is impossible
for you
to grasp.