When the invisible die, do they make a sound?

Its that moment when the world stops spinning
And everything freezes into its perfect asymmetrical time
Your hands reaching for the colors that spin across a backdrop of red laced with black
As your other stretches the tourniquet on your neck—trying to remove the thing that keeps your wings
Locked
And your breath
Stopped.
In a rush the world comes collapsing back in, letting you fall to the ground
Letting your hands pass through shards of dreams that slice at your fingertips
Letting your breathe quicken to gasps of pain
As the iron bar of truth shoves itself down your throat and impales your heart
To crush your lungs under it’s weight.
And you crash to the ground being buried alive and knowing no one will save you
Because your face wasn’t pretty enough.
Your personality not strong enough
You—not good enough to those that shine so brightly around you
And cover your insufficient light
Until it blinks out
Under the lid of a coffin.