Tag: emptiness

  • Misunderstood

    Photo by Jonatán Becerra on Unsplash
    over and over,
    again and again
    i’m misunderstood
    and it’s hard
    because 
    the repetition
    makes it easy
    for me 
    to believe
    that something
    is very wrong 
    with me
    
    maybe god crossed the wires
    maybe i’ve got bad genes
    maybe i’ll never amount 
    to anything
    of value
    to anyone
    maybe, 
    i don’t matter . . .
    
    the thoughts hurt
    they cut
    and sever
    my ability
    to accept myself
    as i am
    
    i hope
    someday 
    i’ll find 
    the strength
    to rewire my brain
    to produce thoughts
    strong enough
    to save me
    from a lifetime
    of being
    misunderstood
  • Fragile

    Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash
    i’m fragile
    easily broken
    by scowls and frowns
    and the sharp edges
    of voices
    belonging
    to people
    that i love
    
    they don’t know
    their harsh expressions
    and pointed words
    are weapons
    that shatter me
    on the inside
    
    the broken pieces
    hurt and fester
    in the darkness
    within me
    so, i’ve hidden them away
    where no one can see
    
    and now
    i’m left alone
    a fragile child
    in an adult body
    with a pile 
    of shards
    to sort out
    by myself
    
    i don’t know
    where to begin
    i don’t know
    how to put myself
    back together
    because 
    i don’t remember
    what wholeness
    feels like
    so, i sit here
    overwhelmed
    and curse myself
    for being fragile
    
    
    
  • Dehydrated

    Photo by Jens Johnsson on Unsplash
    a dehydrated soul
    typically looks 
    in all the wrong places
    for a source
    of liquid love
    to quench 
    its thirst
    
    in desperation
    it swallows
    all kinds 
    of vices
    that will never
    satisfy 
    the universal need
    to be loved
    
    oh, to know
    that the source
    of liquid love
    is an inner river
    of gratitude
    that sometimes trickles,
    sometimes cascades,
    but always flows
    and must be
    consumed 
    in sweet 
    sacred
    silence