Inward

Silence. All but the scratching of a pencil, blocked out by a far away place. Words never spoken, cease to be heard. Eyes seeing nothing, never telling what they saw. A state of mass confusion, although forever quiet. Life, my soul, my mind. I sit in a room filled with people not there. Puzzled, yet knowing everything never told. "I love you" comes out. Why so easily said? Love's not really there, yet it's rapidly growing. Understanding everything but really knowing nothing. Life, my soul, my mind.