Beginning at the End

Screaming out in anguish, do I want someone to notice?
There’s a hole in my soul where there once was a beautiful canvas,
And the sound that returns to me is lonely but cathartic.

I recognize what I've done to create those gaping holes,
I keep shouting out hoping that I'm not hearing echoes.

Why is it so quiet in here? The lack of noise is deafening.
Am I supposed to be here? I feel like my back is breaking.

Reaching out in the dark feeling for something to grasp.
I open my eyes, alone in the abyss I created blaming my past.

Again, I cry out questioning everything, grabbing at anything, clutching, white knuckling. 
Violently throwing whatever I'm touching. Relief from the rage reveals I've touched nothing,

I gotta stop crying, I gotta switch gears.
I'm not prepared to face my deepest fears.
Nobody can save me, I dry my own tears.
Yes I've been running. Running for years.

Only I can hear that cavernous tone.
Only I can feel it vibrate my bones.
I wish I wasn't in my head suffering alone.
Closing the void requires me to let go.
Why am I so scared of my own echoes?