hollow
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Yes I am broken, but I am not defeated. I am like a salmon breaking through the surface of the water in order to fight the current. I am a glow stick breaking in the hands of a child on a summer evening, spreading my light.
I am my own Alice
seeking a non-existent
wonderland,
I am a butterfly
fluttering about in
a flowerless field,
I am a pen
deprived of
the badly needed ink,
I am not a poet.
You are not a poet.
I am a lost soul with an imagination that demands to be seen.
You are a creature looking for words that fill your aching void with a sense of
belonging.
Bumble melts off of the lips like the honey we steal.
Origins are unimportant when we have the hum of corporate in our ears.
Mounds of guilt collect like wax combs.
But we care not, as long as we get what we want.
sometimes you wake up and you're hollow
your whole body feels like a hole waiting to be
filled with something
but nothing satisfies
so you lie back and stare at the ceiling
Giving love to a hollow heart
Is like dropping a coin into a well
In hopes of making a wish
But never hearing it hit the bottom
No splash in the water
No thud against bricks
Just a feeling of dread
She looks up at the clouded sun
For the thousandth time today
Feels the worlds ambience around her
Hollow is the heart inside my chest,so still- it beats.It aches,with unquenchable desire,pounding slowly, slowly, slowly.
I'll push my heart into hiding. Let it be smothered and suffocated, until it becomes a pearl. The only thing that's shining in the hollow remains of a girl. Being numb felt much better than I could've imagined.
Hollow. Inside the mind inside the soul, lies a lonely heart,so weary and cold. She mourns, she roars, shes nothing but that girl. Blood running through her veins like the fire blazing sun, but tears as deep as the ocean.
Dig away from all the dissappointment
I get lonley in caves all by myself.
Thoughts lose everything all in the moment,
Scraping nails upon walls, all blood runs high.
O' Thy sweet hollow tree
Kind, wild and free
Some describing generation
Protecting us from invasion
Others not knowing the occasion
With their long and lengthy arms
They are usually standing on farms.
What become of the Beauty gone astray?What happens to those who have no time to play?No one sees the Silent agony,and if they could,what would they really see?
