They thought it was over.

They didn't think that the words would stick to the inside of my head like a sickly mess of syrup and tar.
The thoughts crushed my lungs silent and still.
They thought it was gone because I looked as if it had gone, with my smile barely cracking at the corners.
They don't ask any more because the words disappeared but my brain kept screaming obscenities at the inside of my skull. 
And I'm listening.


They thought it was gone because I was different, but half of me wishes so bad that I could get it back. I'm not really sure I want it to stay but...


...I don't want it to go.