who are we?

all the faces put on. what do they really mean? you
say that i know you, but can we ever really know each
other? maybe it is better when we dont. you hold me in
your arms, saying it will all work out. but cant you
see it isnt! and back asleep we fall. back to you,
back to me, back to our future. the train that we were
too afraid to board. it left without us. there are
others to take now but they never will lead us to that
place we missed. there is pain in being late. there is
pain in love. but yet somehow it is all worth it. im
being dragged along the traintracks. even though i am
bleeding and scarred i know that eventually the train
will stop. someone will find whats left of me in the
muck. i want to scream and get away. am i dead? no one
seems to hear me anyway. and yet i am writing to the
one who hears me best. im telling you my story, so
when i forget it, when i am giving up on life, you are
there to hand it all back to me. and you do. cant you
see though that im hurt? cant you see the bruises? you
are loading me back up again before i have had the
chance to heal. but will we ever really be healed. i
hold your shoulders, you grasp my side. somehow we
seem to keep each other afloat. wait though, i think
we are both drowning. cant you just hold me like that
on the dry land? no, this cant be happening. is it all
a dream? when i wake will you still be holding me? as
the bright sun reaches my innocent eyes will it be you
greeting me? how can i know what is true and what is
false? i just want to close my eyes and stop
listening. stop everything from happening. like
dominoes coliding from the slightest spark. i quickly
try to gather all the pieces but they are falling from
me too quickly. i am tired now. ive just been dreaming
for the past 10 minutes. dreaming of the love that was
lost. do not tell me it is not lost, i cannot find it
and this is my narrative, so therefore it is lost. i
loose a lot of things. maybe, while im sitting up in
the clouds tonight, i will be able to spot them,
regain my composure. once the day breaks again all the
pieces will fall back together. they always do. never
in the right order. but somehow, everytime i have
finally picked everything up i trip again. my small
fingers letting go of everything that i am supposed to
hold. please dont help me pick up the pieces, i dont
want you to see what they are. no one can. they are my
secrets. my secrets to a life now lost. at the end of
the day youre another day older. nothing more. nothing
less. we go up and down as the train bounces along the
tracks, but somehow it always settles out by the end
of the day. what about all of the happy people? how do
they do it? they dont...