Listen

There are colors on the palette,
left untouched by the artist.
Lying on the floor beneath,
the messy clothes unwashed.
A ray of light peeking through the curtains,
touching the tears stained face.
Tired to cry, wearied to smile,
he's counting the days till death.

Across the street, the other one,
charming and bubbly.
Loaded caffeine and heap of files,
one step closer to the milestone.
People say I wish to be him,
to be successful in life.
But inside, he knew,
the artist and him,
was not distance apart.

The demon they fighting,
in a different disguise.
The war with themselves,
was their hardest part.
Quit the drama,
exclaimed others,
The silence was the best reply to them.

At 3 am and 3 pm,
emptiness shallowing them,
stories of tears sharing with pillows.
They want to end it all, to hide from all.
To be in peace, they took their ways.
One moment could have saved their life,
If you listen, and not advise!