This old soul of mine

Old soul, his stare is as cold as a December night. I remember the night he became this shadow of a man. It's hard to understand what sparked this change. Rage and pain have become difficult to contain. At night the rain is even harder to maintain. Helpless, I watched his fall, I watched it all. He walked down the halls and wasn't noticed at all. The teachers didn't notice his sinking facial features. Creatures haunt, taunt, and follow him, until the demons were strong enough to swallow him. He tries to resist but the pain insists other lives would be better if he didn't exist. His family didn't see the signs. I tried to warn them but none were willing to read between the lines. I tried to cry for help. I cried for the pain he felt but when he whispered "I'm fine" no one paid me any mind. Here draws the line between I, the psyche, and he, the conscious mind. We either teeter between breaking down or breaking through. As I crack through ceilings his floor is crumbling too. I struggle to love myself when my flesh is a threat to my health.