Who Am I

My happiness lies somewhere in my past where our hands interlock as we laugh about something one of us said. Somewhere inside the creases made by our interlocked fingers a piece of my being is encompassed. You stole from me. The sound of your name escapes the lips of those around me, enters my ears, pierces down my throat, and lands in my stomach with a booming vibration every time. Hearing your voice makes me hold my chest because I feel like my heart is being forced by the echo right out of the black hole left behind by your childlike playfulness. Are you happy? Tears all the time when I don't know why because I feel like I'm going insane in a world that's nearing psychosis itself with Lithium as its own life support. How could you leave me? Stolen from me, all that I knew, all that I know, so slates have been wiped clean with sobbing as Angels cry in harmonious agony and pity. Caged up like an animal because my soul is trapped inside my own heart with a key thrown away and a keyhole that must be picked by someone who cares too much to give up. Who am I?