The depression falls on me like thousands of pieces of broken glass.
My steel umbrella has turned to cobwebs and I am struck with a force like a hurricane.
There is no protection from this feeling, there is no real solution.
The music keeps going and the world keeps turning.
Yet, I am still… an unfocused haze.
The cracks in the walls do not let in the sunlight, there are no windows.
The cracks explode, dust and rubble form a layer over all that is left of me.
Can you call this a soul?
a soul in tears with Outcast as its name?
The world comes in focus for seconds before being crashed apart by nightmare waves.
No one can see what is not there.
No one can hear what has no voice, no sound.
My soul decides to be seen, to be heard.
I cover myself in the dust and cobwebs and utter a simple plea.