I suppose the tears
of sensitivity
and the cries
of my perception
have gone unheard
but sometimes it grows unbearable;
sometimes the melting
and the sinking
make me choke
as I drown in myself
and sometimes I solely have one wish-
to go home,
to go to the home
that I can never find.
I am not a tragic ending or a storm below the stirring Earth, I am not your empty vessel nor am I a glass of dirt. I have never been full...
Belonging is difficult and sometimes a battle on a field littered with bones. Those of us who never got a say in this destiny lay...
Fragments of myself fell off until I had lost them all, I had lost the soul until I was nothing but a performing shell- I had forgotten...
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