I’ve come to realise
I am not one of anything
and my emotions are often
at war inside me tearing
me apart and stitching me
back together as something
never to be created again.
I inhale solitude
exhaling a heavy burden
I somehow carry like
a cardboard package
I will never deliver.
Some days I still need
the warmth of another.
I speak so fast, choking
on words comes naturally
and once I have uncomfortably
regurgitated each syllable,
I suddenly overcome with
the desire to retract them—
all of them in their entirety.
And most days I think of how
I appreciate the sky and the
way I can look up and see
something emptier than I and I
wonder do I love its beauty
or have I become captivated
by my own sadness?


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