The repetition of questions

What is that dripping sound that I hear?

I think it’s coming from me.

Pooling in a crimson stain on my floor

draining the life out of me.

What is that wailing sound that I hear?

I feel it deeply within.

Shaking in a silent, rumbling

taking the life from within.

Where do those tears keep coming from?

I think they are falling from my eyes.

I’ve seen too much that I can’t forget

there’s no life left in these eyes.

Where does this pain keep coming from?

from the depth of my broken heart.

Dull and lifeless, its beating has stopped

my desperately broken heart.

When will I ever be whole again?

Will I ever find my way back to life?

Scratching and crawling, in vain I try

to live some semblance of a life.

Will anything ever be real again?

Will I ever exist beyond this wall?

Will I trust, will I feel, will I ever let anyone

beyond the safe confines of this wall?