Always pity for the quiet sadness

Always pity for quiet, the ones who sit silently in their room and never talk about it, the ones who wallow in despair and sulk alone

Never pity for violent, the ones who scream and shout and throw things, the dangerous ones with seemingly no self control, the aggressive, the "crazy", the one who slams their heads and fists into walls, scream instead of cry, ends in shattered glass and fallen bookshelves

The "crazies", the "psychos", the "don't talk to them, their unstable", the "they've got issues"

The raging screaming agony of a person, no one knows how to deal with, they don't even know how to deal with themselves

Always pity for the lullaby of sorrow, calm and quiet and collected, a singing sadness instead of the screaming, a calming darkness instead of pitch black, a darkness you can sleep in instead of looking around in fear and anxiety

Never pity for the screaming song, a smashed guitar and broken in drums yet still capable of noise, a screeching sound of music, yet somehow still music but almost unbearable

Never pity for the darkness too dark to see your own body, swallowing everything around you, a darkness that eats you alive until you become the darkness, making you seem to be nothing of yourself

Never pity for the whole in the wall, crumbling and caving in, hollowed out by something even more hollow then itself

Never pity for the scratched record, screeching and skipping, a music so unbearably enchanting you can never even dare turn it off, you just sit in the agonized screaming of the record, it wanting so bad to be turned off but you let it play, scared the silence after all the screaming will come and eat you alive

Always pity for the carved out person, still there enough to hold themselves together, using glue, tape, stitching, anything to keep every piece together

Never pity for the empty person, taken apart piece by piece, giving bits of themselves to the person who needs it more than them, the empty person who came to peace with the pain of every missing chunk of themself, filling in any of their missing pieces with anything they can find to try to keep their crumbling and falling body still working because they can't stop now.