Lost Things

The days have lost their meaning and shape
What mattered most is gone
Yet a core remains within me, one I guard
Significant only to me, to no one else
I know it is good, this thing of greatest value
The opinions of others hold no weight here
They have already spoken, that I never wrote it down
That they will not read it; they ensured that would be the case
Even though I wrote it under their influence
To help them understand themselves
To heal what was broken within them
It matters not, they will not reach for it anyway
It seems to me they have stepped onto a path of no return
Flowers bloom, yet they cast no fragrance
They boast of their colours, while I see only rotting roots
There is no room for healing in their homes
For long ago, they abandoned themselves
Pretending nothing happened, that everything is fine
I suppose I see things differently than they do
And so, I must be punished for being myself
Yet in reality, they are punishing themselves
Using the cruellest weapon: the neglect of their own souls