I could say I am a ball of contradictions,
confusions and delusions
But I'm no ball,
I'm no perfect shape.

Rather,
I'm just pieces of different debris
And forsaken things,
Like the broken arm off a kid's doll
Thrown together,
In attempts to make something.

And in attempts to make something of myself,
I lost you and
I came up with nothing.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror
But all I see is an empty, yet full frame.

I feel so empty,
I've left you in people and things
I've worn myself out trying to find you
and I'm tired.

I'm empty, yet full.
Full of things that aren't me
Full of little pieces I've kept from many old you's
Hoping to one day find the real you.

I'm tired, tired of roaming in different directions,
Spinning in different circles
And scaling hills and valleys,
To find you

I'm tired of looking in empty trashcans,
And through the cracks in sidewalks,
And in people,
To find you.

I'm tired of seeking and not finding.
Dear old self, can you stop hiding?
This game of hide and seek is getting pretty tiring.

h.s