Solitude Isn’t Quiet When You Hate Yourself

The room doesn't echo

It swallows

Four walls like padded thoughts

Soft

But loud inside

My skin hums

With the static of everything

I didn't say

When I should've

The bed is too big

For one heartbeat

But I lie still

Like guilt pretending to be sleep

They call it solitude

Like it's peace

But it's a funeral

Where I'm both the mourner

And the body

Solitude isn't quiet

When you hate yourself

It screams

In your own voice

It loops the worst moments

With surround sound precision

Asking questions

You've buried in shallow breaths

No one interrupts

And that's the cruelest part

I tried noise

Music

Screens

Laughter in cans

But nothing sticks

To these echoing bones

My mind builds

Its own prisons

With pillows and playlists

Then locks me in

With no trial

I talked to my reflection once

It looked away

Even shadows here

Have better places to be

I tried to leave me

But I follow myself

Too well

Solitude isn't quiet

When you hate yourself

It recites your flaws

Like a preacher in flames

It waits

At the foot of your bed

With a smirk

And when you finally scream

It claps