Empty

Every day is a wheel of prevailing emotions; emotions that you couldn’t show to the world; emotions that you’ve learned long enough to hide that already became natural to you.

You work yourself to death and ask yourself why. You begin to wonder about the state of your life. You begin to think that you need change—but you don’t know exactly what you need.

You feel like there are not enough words being said; you no longer feel good about anything.

And then you hear the words you need—but they don’t make you feel like anything.

Maybe, they do, but you cannot hear them clearly.

You could not see them clearly.

Because you’re empty.

Every Version of You

One, you were full of daydreams; nothing you can remember anymore

Two, you opened up your eyes to harsh realities; some you blinded yourself from

Three and four, you found hope

Five, you started to be confused; about life, about the world

Six, you were a big sister

Seven, you were a little lady

Eight, nine, ten, you were meek; you were shy

Eleven, twelve, you were painfully awkward; the world was harsh;

Thirteen, fourteen, you lost one of the people you loved most

Fifteen, you were full of dreams; had your head in the clouds; only going up, up, up

Sixteen, you fell back to earth; had to stop; didn’t know where to go next

Seventeen, you had a breakdown; tried to pick yourself back up

Eighteen, you had the world in your hands

Nineteen, your world came crashing down

Twenty, you were full of grace

Twenty One, you didn’t know where you were headed

Twenty Two, you tried; oh how much you tried

Twenty Three, you were full of lies

Twenty Four, you went away; left that world; built something new

Twenty Five, you were back with your fairy tales; you know they never left; they never will

Twenty Six, you were good; you were alright

Twenty Seven, you’re fine; and then you’re not

 

I still see every version of you;

Every version of me;

There’ll be more

So much more

There’d be hope

Hopefully more