Dead Inside.

Sitting on my knees,

Weeping out my soul,

I cry out my eyes praying for the sun to shine again.

So broken, yet not crumbling as I walk.

Heads high,

Shoulders straightened and lips quivering, as I try to keep my sobbing to myself.

Day and night I long to be comforted, to be embraced and kissed tenderly like a baby I was supposed to be.

Yet, here I am, older than my age because I was already running when I was supposed to be crawling.

Every time I spent alone with the crowds or the with myself, it never made a difference for loneliness was the only friend I had.

I waited for an invisible friend that never showed up. Yet, you were always here with me.

My paper was here for me as I pour my tears and heart to it in a black sticky ink.

Oh my poor heart, if only you knew what life had in stock for you, you would have come a little bit prepared.

How I wish life isn’t a mystery, for it puzzles killed me emotionally yet, left me stronger physically.

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