i’m trying

I’m trying to prove that I am more than an empty rib cage, but how do I do that when I can’t feel my own heartbeat. When I’ve managed to match the hollow hole in my chest with every fibre of my being. I am nothing. I am nothing more than a memory, one that’s been left crying on the floor for far too long. The rips in my jeans bend at the knee, torn and worn from every time I couldn’t manage to pick myself up. I am nothing more than the empty bottles left lying in front of the door. The door that is my mind, one I’ve used to shut everyone out. I need not be pitied for my own mess, it is no fault but my own for this nothingness. I’ve become this nothingness. Nothing more than a walking hole, with a hollow mind and a broken soul. Nothing to offer other than my bruised limbs and the need to become whole. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s