I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Empty.
Buried in the happiness
of everyone but me
Drowning in the caring words
of friends and family
Sinking in a sea of love,
entangled in another’s arms
And still I’m empty.
Can nothing fill the spaces left
by hatred and betrayal?
Will nothing take the place
of all that I once had?
How can my pain be iridescent
when I hurt so bad?
Can no one see through all
the emptiness in me?
What could take the place
of all that I could be
If I weren’t so empty?
As I cry into the void in me
I float of my waves of insecurity
And crash on the shore of broken dreams.
I lay in the moonbeams
Translucent heart.
Empty.
July 5, 2009 at 3:04 am
Ach… this one is completely tortured… Fantastically written and completely tortured. That same kindling combination of good but wrenching…
what’s happened to you? I know I know… I asked for these poems and I got what I wanted (brushes shoulder) but you’ve got to write this story out…
Wow. Very good though, even at 14 you had a brilliant talent.
July 13, 2009 at 2:57 pm
I’ve got to say, this has always been one of my favorites from that time, it just flowed really nicely. It was probably more dramatic than necessary, I think I felt more than actually happened back then…I don’ t know if that makes sense.
July 14, 2009 at 9:30 pm
I know what you mean, feeling more than what actually happened. I get that. It’s a relative experience though you know? I think we get our emotions served to us between what we hoped for and expected and what we got. Feeling more or less is just a gauge of the contrast between the two in the end.
… seems the more strictly realistic we are the less there is to feel sometimes… and that is no good at all.