My second poem, after taking some tips.

The silence gets to you,

it digs deeper than a brick plummeting to the seabed.

 

A common misconception.

You think that making any affection will make you someones selection,

But there's no direction.

Faking a connection will not make you happy.

 

Yeah, it's a long run when you have the weight of your own head to carry,

The burden will worsen as you plummet down this hole that's soon tarry.

 

It's by choice,

Or is it?

You tell yourself that you only have your own voice to visit.

You're not an exhibit.

There's no need to prohibit yourself from the ones who are pure,

But you're so unsure, you'd rather just question it.

 

The voice that calls from the summit is guided,

Not lost,

But it doesn't know what it has long ignited.

At what cost do they just leave you to be frightened or to be given haven.

 

This feeling of loss gives only one constant direction.

Through much introspection,

you find no home.

It's completely true,

The one that you lost was you.

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