I am listening to you, all of you.

I can hear your cries for help.

I am so in tune to your screeches that I have forgotten the static of my own.

I will tell you goodnight and silent my whimpers in order to keep your mind at peace.

It is me, it is us.

We bleed the most because we would rather be killed than kill. 

I do not think it is possible for you to bury me like I bury me.

I have dug myself a hole I call home,

A place you can not find,

A place in my mind where even I do not want to lie.

I just stay,

I wait here day after day.

I do not want to be saved and that is part of the problem.

Needing to be saved but denying each hand that holds mine.