Poetry

Empty

I can feel everything,

All the pain and heartache,

Every moment of torture endured.

Yet, all that’s present is emptiness.


I thought to be empty was freedom,

From emotion,

I was wrong.

It’s when you’ve felt so much,

That every inch of you has been taken,

All that’s left is the trauma felt.


I am a shadow of my former self,

Any little bits that have returned,

Are broken.

It’s only when I can recognise myself,

That the emptiness will dissipate.

Only then I can be me.