Hello?
Can you hear me?
I hope that you can
And I hope you're actually listening, not pretending.

Do you ever hear me behind locked doors?
All I know you can hear is silence.
You fall for the façade of "I'm fine'
And think nothing of the silence.

There is silence, I admit.
I can't hear anything, either.
But there's one main difference -
I can feel my pain you can't hear.

I can feel the suffering
That I don't want you to bare.
The reason that it's so silent
Is to ensure you don't care to check on me.

I've practised the art of waterfalls,
Concealed at the hearts of forests.
Seen by all through photos,
But never heard through photos.

My tears are the crashing water,
Splashing and forming the river below.
There's so much noise in my head,
Concealed by the happy photo you see.

I've mastered the art of silent suffering,
So I don't bare the pain with you.
The waterfall crashes painfully,
But never finds the way to alert your ears.

Are you there?
You can hear me, right?
I hope you understand the words I say,
Instead of drifting to sleep from my words.

Do you hear me over the instruments I play?
I try to be loud, for sure.
Playing the saxophone loudly,
Pressing piano keys harshly.

You're under the impression I'm practising,
I'm positive about that.
But I don't think you hear
The suffering in the notes.

I blow hard on the reed of the sax,
But all of the notes are mismatched.
I can't contain my ragged breathing
From the deep, invisible cuts in my throat.

I press the keys on the piano harshly,
But it gets louder with every note.
I play quickly
To hide the slow decay of my mind.

Hello?
Can you hear me?
This isn't a cry for help.
This is a wail of surrender.

Hello?
Can you hear me?
I'm still here for you...
I'm just trapped.

Hello?
Can you hear me?
I'll always be here.
I'll try to escape for you.

Hello?

...Can you hear me?