Who knew that being hollow was worse than being in pain?
That heartbreak hurt less than nothing at all.
That a tear-stained face and raw throat couldn't compare
To great empty stretches with echoes;
Echoes of love, of joy, of warmth.
To know that a cry for help would be answered by a cold, lonely silence,
Mocking in its absolute presence.
Who knew that pain would be welcomed?
That it was a reminder that there was still a soul in the body,
Not an empty shell, not a brightly painted mask with a smile that could fool anyone,
But living, and breathing, and loving,
Fighting, surviving, and great.