How deep is nothing, really? Endless blurs of dialogue cascading around my brain, As if to mock the deafness. I can't quite hear myself down here. It wasn't so long ago that words could reach me, But back then I was still clinging to the top. Clinging on to every subtle change in tone, Remembering what happened, Forever turning my vastly fading heart into stone. This void surrounds me, Nothing left, but a simple-minded martyr. This void surrounds me, Nothing left, but the constant fear of failure. You could still feel the pain, My nails carved on the surface. You could taste the still-fresh blood I left on the outside, But I am. How deep is nothing really? Sit back, I'll tell you.