These are all of Tom's writing that are all in Silens I chapters.
Chapter 18 (Poems: 'I'm Fine')
This is the last breath I breath, the last moment that I see, the last breath. I've never figured out how to love, living all this pain is all I know. You never notice, but I chose this. I'll miss the joy that it brought, or at least that's what I thought it was. I try to hide, telling myself I'm okay, that's what they say. I just want to let this pain go, but I don't want to let go of you. How can I leave it all behind? How? How can I live if all I'm living is pain? Is this lie just insane? I live this live alone and I say that it's alright, I'm fine. I'm fine. I could die any moment, and you stand there? Words that are unable to fill your mind? Are you dead? It seems like you've lost every state of mine. I rush through this alone. I don't know where to go. I want to end this. I'm a coward to see I'm okay, that I don't want to end it all right this moment. I'm unable to say I need help, that I have pain. I wish it would stop. Stop it all. It's like I don't even try, but if I try so hard. If I just try. Try. Maybe I'll learn how to let go. I keep saying over, I'm not sober. I let you in and you judged me, you stabbed me in the back. I let you in to see my mind, my suffering, my pain, my regret, my lies. And I messed up. It hurts. It hurts. I thought I was normal, I'm not 'normal', I'm not going to let the pain flow out and never come back. I've left joy. I just want you to see, not just judge me, it's all you ever do. You'll be okay, you'll be fine. But what about me? Do it for me. How do I wake up everyday? How do I breath? How can you see? Understand this hurting? I'm not different. I'm just a bank paper. No one to help me write this story, all I have left. A blank paper to weak to be written on, just being ripped. I want to be a painting. But how? But how? I'm a victim playing dead, living my life based on what they said. It makes me feel weak inside. Like I only try to hide. Promises are just broken lies, liars that can't say that don't want to do this anymore, they just want to hit the floor, lifeless. With no breath in their body, their eyes wide open, but not able to see anymore. Everyone dies, but no one knows it like I do. Everyone loses it, loses it all. I needed you, but you didn't need me. I helped you, but didn't do the same, and I'm the only one that needs help. You did this to me. But I don't hate you. I don't spend every breath hating you. Every time I picture myself, I don't want to, it's not a choice, but I picture myself dead. I've messed up everything. Haven't I? I want to lose it all, but some people don't have the choice to lose this, but I have to...it's the only way I'll be happy. It's the only way I'll picture myself laughing. I mean nothing. Nothing. Nothing. That's all I am. Nothing. I was screaming, but you didn't see me. Notice me. I'm locked inside a prison of my own mental state, my own hate. Nothing matter to me anymore, I've torn it all away and I wish that was a lie, out of all of it. All my lies that I spent all my time on. I spent my life faking a laugh and making tears fall down. Sometimes I don't want it to end, I can't let go of it. I know I should, it was where I stood alone on the side of life, pushed away to the side in the darkness. I was doubted and called heartless. I'm not "better", and I know you wish I was, but I'm not. I want to stop it all, I want to be the one to stop breathing. To stop seeing. I can't that all I see is a mirror with no reflection, no perfection. It kills me. I kill me. This is my life. My lie. What I had to deal with. My prison cell. I want to tell you how much it hurts, but I can't find help. All you'll ever do is push me in a lake of my own tears. My own fears. Leave me alone, please go. I don't want to do this anymore, do you know? I'm all alone? Love, if you loved me why'd you leave me? Bleed me? I march this path alone, for all I know. I need you, and I need you to need me back. Tell me all the things I lack. Make me laugh. Liar. You made a promise. You lost it. It. My faith, my hope, my love, my emotion, my hate, my anger, my sins. I'm helpless. All I have left is myself. And I'm about to let that leave soon too. I'm a murderer of myself. I'm my own death. I'm the one that left. The one that wasn't strong enough. The one that didn't need love. I did this. It's all my fault. I'm already broken, what's the point in breaking me more? Closing the door? Unable to let them be? Let them see? I'm pointless.
This Chapter 16 ('Loss') Really Short:
Faking it is only going to make the pain worse, as the silence overcomes whispers that are soon to be screams, and it seems to be impossible to realize that pain that sucks that soul of others, their weakness spreads out of their body as you glare In shock. But of course-
It's always a mansion turning it's swirled words with huge letters swirling around your breathless body, overwhelming your insanity, making you scream, having your head twist around the thought of death, or not even death expecting a fate. You stare at yourself, with bickers in your head, and people screaming. The people may seem unknown, but their known as you are to me, a person so close, you can't even see. You curl around the cold ground, leaving your thoughts to not sleep for the night, they never do, keeping you awake, you eyes wide open. For a mansion isn't ever necessarily good for you, it's only to distract you from one thing. Mansions are for people who fill up a house so they can fill up there barely beating heart, having your mind whisper, but the real one screams, too far away, the only thing you hear is the noises in your ear, the whispers from demons.
I faint memory is always something that leads us back to somewhere regretful, although memories will only be gone for a period of time. Each memory slowly comes back, even if it is just having a morning with a cup of coffee, or a taste of a bitter regret, you always soon remember things. Most if the times, you don't remember the things you do, it's forgotten for eternity of darkness. You wish you knew why, but it's not certain. Whenever you need a memory the most, it's not certain it'll show up, but if you wait, and have your patience drift off slowly, the memory will come back. It's maybe anger that you feel when memories fade the come back, but they come when needed, and you might not realize it, but being late on a special evening to forget is terribly often. It's good to remember it's not for long. And-
If you ever looked to find things, you'll look to find in peculiar places. Like a room filled with hope, or a house filled with only sorrow. Somethings we regret most in life might just leave us to constant pondering, and wishing there was always a way to get out-to get out. Regret came bring us many sorrows, telling us to stop it. Only to feel like someone is out there, but there truly not, or at least in a tiny bubble that you keep yourself in. You look in the mirror, you look like your hurting, with tears running down your face, and your eyes red, your heart beating faster by the moment. In real life, it's only a hidden dream. You wish they could see your hurting, but they can't. You hate them for it, but the only person you hate for it is you. You seem to tell yourself it's okay, but your different, too different. You can't see the people around you, your blinded by the fact you'll never be like the person you father loves most, a boy that's pure. Someone you'll never be. You lie to yourself, always trying to act tough on the outside, why you cry on the inside. You act like all your decisions are worth the cost, but your just pitiful. This is why they don't love you. They. All they see is a pureblood jerk, that pretends they aren't souls lying around in an empty room, with only people that stare into the walls. "It's been a long day," you say to yourself, continuing to torture that part of you that just wants to be loved. You look at yourself once more, looking at that paper you had to return, a note you were too afraid to give. A fight you were too afraid to fight. You sit down alone in an empty chair, as you trickle your thoughts down a well that is overflowing, but with no water pouring out on the outside. It seems impossible for that to happen. It seemed you were okay, at a decent amount of time. Not even your closest demons see this side of you, just that one side that taunts you. "But it's not over yet," you say again, getting up from the chair you were left on to cry alone. You look at your wand, taking it, pulling it closer to you, whispering dark magic that imitates happiness in so many ways. Something that makes you want more, but never have more. Magic that hurts not the monster, but you. You can't choose which side, you know you'll be happier on the side that tells you your going to be happy, but you have to choose the side that tells your fine, but it has no proof. Proof. The wall you've been looking at for days now keep you restless, just another class to attend. To fake. You can always choose, this is what it's always about. Choose your friends and die, choose happiness and live forever. The first one seems so painful, so heart breaking that you'll never be able to realize it. What? Nobody knows, not even I, not a girl that stands tall when she's the most weak, not the boy that wishes everyone to be happy just so he could be happy, not the boy that pretends to hate others that he cares about the most. You-
Which do you like the best? For me, Chapter 18.