Crushed Alive

My head is a stone— not cold, not sharp, just heavy. A hundred pounds of nothing pressing down on thought. No feeling— except the tears that won’t listen, running their own path like they’ve decided for me that something is still alive. My color is gone. Drained out quietly, like no one noticed the moment it left. There’s a hole in my chest— not loud, not violent, just there, like something important forgot to exist. I swear I felt it once— real love, real warmth, real wings lifting me somewhere lighter than this. Now they’re gone. Not ripped— just… cut away, leaving me grounded in a silence I don’t recognize. Everything inside me has gone quiet. Thoughts—still. Veins—empty. And what’s left? Eyes like a black hole: quiet, dark, unreachable— pulling everything in and giving nothing back.