I found an old notebook...

When a coward cannot face his fears,
cannot prove he's not made of tears;
when there's nothing for which he can fight,
when he'd lost his hearing, given up his sight..
None will judge him here in the dark
where even the insignificant can make their mark.
Only the forgotten can be found here;
a safehouse from prying eyes and ears.
Alone in the silence by himself
is painful heaven, his beautiful hell.
If whether to save him was your call
would you grab hold of his hand.. or watch him fall?

lolll one or two people might actually remember this poem from approximately 2 years ago?

ehhhh... why did i ever think i could write?? TT"
_