Those Ones

The rain pours.
Every muscle sore.

All noise drowned out by my inside screaming.
Flashes of the past have no meaning.

A transparent soul.
My life only a hole.

Everything's torn apart.
Left without a heart.

All other presence are creepy.
Feeling like a lonely weakling.

Little beings grow wothout conscience.
Only told without pacience.

As the empty is no less torn.
Those ones grow only more.