Sometimes, the longing for her overwhelms me, and no one else knows this silent pain

Sometimes, the longing for her overwhelms me, and no one else knows this silent pain, Most people think my pain is just poetry, just words, images from my wandering mind, They don't see the battles I fight deep within my soul, where shadows dance on the edge of memories, Maybe sometimes I lie in poetry because the truth is too heavy to bear aloud. Sometimes, what I don't say echoes louder than all the words I lay on paper, Sometimes I feel a dull rage, a boredom that engulfs me, and my mind empties completely, Like a box with nothing inside, just her name, her face, her voice, Playing in an endless loop in my tired mind. Sometimes I just want to give up, to leave everything behind and sink into oblivion, I am so tired that I don't want to get up even when the train stops at my station, I sit there, caught between somewhere and nowhere, hating myself for being too weak to stand. Sometimes I feel like a fool, a man lost in his own silence, Carrying wounds unseen by anyone, signs of an untold story, Sometimes I want to cry out for help, to shout from the depths of my being, "Please, help me," But the words remain stuck, trapped behind the walls I've built myself. And yet, the world keeps moving, and I must move forward, Even when every step is heavy, burdened by the weight of her absence, So I walk through this sea of silence, searching for light among shadows, Learning to live with the longing as a part of me, like a flame that never extinguishes.