A Freefalling Nothing

I said, "Hello." I didn't even mean to say it; I didn't even mean to be alive.
I've been running. I think I ran too far away; I didn't know where I would arrive, or who I would deprive.

You look so lost; you look so scared; you look like you're about to fall.
I feel insane; I feel unsure; I feel like nothing at all, and you're about to fall.

Your eyes afire, they're burning through the core of me; they're turning me to ashes, then to dust.
There is sadness. It always grips the eyes of life first; it always turns them red and steals their trust, a pain-addicting lust.

You seem so marred; you seem so dead; you seem like you're about to fall.
I can't explain; I can't give aid; I can't feel anything at all, and you're about to fall.

The pain is back. I though I had forgotten it; I though if I plead it would leave me alone.
Is it my fault? If it's not, who's it it? If it's not, then why do I bemoan? And who should I condone?

You are so tired; you are confused; you are about to take the fall.
I am silent; I am afraid; I am clearly nothing at all, and you're about to fall. You're about to fall!

This nothing, this feeling of absence in my soul, is livable.

We are alone. We're not alone. We will all jump and feel the fall.
We can't be scarred. We are afraid. We are everything and nothing and we fall.