Submissions by those-insults

Do rusted hearts
still beat,
And do empty souls
still mourn?

And if you leave,
then must you stay,
and give my existence
meaning?

Because of you
I have learned,
to listen and not
just hear,

And not just crash
into a wall
of depression. 

My breath is the sound
Of the storm
I inhale, wind whistles past
I exhale, thunder dance by.
My rising chest
Is the pulsating beat
Of the rain on the asphalt.

The storm mimics me.

The tears streaming
Down my cheeks,
The closet offers no consolement.
Nor do the stranger
That live
Happily
Outside my door.

I am not here.

The sun shall never rise,
For I myself am dark.
I shall deteriorate
Into a musty nothingness,
And the strangers outside
Shan't the least bit
Falter.