I am projecting emptiness.

Hollow wall, that you knock and hear echo.
Dusty floor that leaves the trails of ghosts.
Rusted gates that are fused forever closed.
Door with lock that long forgot key.

My emptiness is mere hologram.

It isn’t any more truth than it is substance,
Just armour I wear to survive the shrapnel of day.
Because inside, inside I’m screaming fullness,
Bursting like ripe summer berries of feelings,
Bleeding peach juice tears down sticky wrists,
Neglected bathtub left to overflow with wanting.

And all for nothing.

I am silent witness to my own disappearance,
Because you never, ever see me.



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