After Awhile

The time comes when you no longer hear your own cries.
A time when you can't be bothered. They are, after all, just cries.
You suffer from this of course, but it's clear that your heart's not in it.
Your pain seems to need some prodding to make it hurt.
Your own life, come to think of it, cries out for the need to think of it
As yours when you look inside, because everything in there
Is just inside.
After awhile, it might just as well be elsewhere.
Time has a way of talking things out of themselves.
That cry from the depths won't say, but it might just as well be
Somebody else's, in the sense that you're always yourself
At a good far cry from yourself.
You wake up one fine day and…what's the difference.
It's all the same to you if you're someone…else.
Whatever the case may be, and it looks like a case of whatever,
It looks to be one such instance of nobody cares just what,
You seem to be at a loss, for whatever it was
To have meant when you lost it, having found
What is found in the heart, when your heart
Isn't in it, and it's still your…heart.
Because a time comes when the heart doesn't care to be heard from.
A time that puts time between it, and the last time it heard from itself.
You wake up one dark night and…wait for the morning.
After awhile, it might just as well be light.