Gifts.

Amongst the living and still I mange to exist in between the physical and spiritual worlds. Go too far into either and you begin to lose who you are as a person. I rather not talk. No one ever really understands the urgency of your words when you need confirmation that you're still alive. They never know how deep it goes, they just believe you are less important the weaker you appear. These are people far more lost than you are. They need you to be strong so they can be themselves. That's the sacrifice.
Amongst the dead and I still manage to understand them all too well. They are me. The other side. The side no one sees but might hear. Created by an unsettled mind that was built to accept everything and see what they cannot. Something listens for me. Too naive to believe yet that I am worthy of gifts when I got this far without them. Too connected to believe I am gifted when I am only doing what I'm suppose to. Too alone to deny that I can do it all by myself. Too sensitive to watch someone suffer. Don't speak, always listen.