The Dive

No need to ask "What happened?".
Colors gleamed too bright
Sharp
Slicing
And I too gray.
No brother in the mirror's face
No song sung by voices known.
A bell jar quiet
Whispering low
Words bleached pale by night.
They drift softly
Dry
Hopeless
Autumn leaves of madness
And settle on my soul.

They are now my own.