A heart should never feel so empty;
Or at least, that's what I've been told.

But I've had this hole for so so long now,
It's hard to imagine anything there.

I long to set these emotions free,
But my senses are growing too old.

I'll simply wipe the pain off my brow
And hope nobody sees my stare.

A void lies empty,
Debris clanging off of me,
Drifting silently.

A radio calls out,
Chatter from a time gone by,
Static fills my ears.

They ponder and scream,
Dead voices, suspended here;
A nightmare outside.

Synapses flashing,
Broadcasting new pain to me;
Memories not mine.

No time to live now,
Too long living in the past,
I'm lost in subspace.

I have the desire to write.
So why must I find it so hard?
I accept that I'm not a talented bard
But I still want my words to delight.

Why must my mind repeat itself so?
Continuing to re-tread paths long walked,
I find new source of inspiration locked;
How can I allow new art to flow?

Can I even create anew?
Perhaps fresh thoughts will long evade me.
I'll walk these paths again, and see;
Perhaps I'm yet to find my way through.

She called me a lady
And it made me happy.

Nobody was hurt,
or wanted to flirt;

Just a seller, doing her job.
Making me happy enough to sob.

So why is it so hard for you?

Emotion flows out
Leaving behind a trickle
Of artistic pain

When did I become
That which you wanted to hate?
When did my life mean so little to you,
That you'd pass no interest in my fate?

Was it when I became myself,
The woman I've always been?
Did you prefer me to front a constant lie
And leave my pain unseen?

Was it when I made those simple mistakes,
When my mind was revealed to be so broken?
It was never my fault that it hurts so to think,
But you'd rather I left my pain unspoken?

Maybe it was when I came out?
Revealing that unacceptable part of me,
Was it really something to despise so much;
The perfect stain on your family tree?

Perhaps it was at that funeral,
When you saw a child that couldn't seem to feel?
Perhaps if you cared to even notice,
You'd have seen that my sorrow was real?

Or perhaps I'm just projecting.

Transgender Identity.
Autism and ADHD.
Homosexuality.

These are all just excuses
From a mind begging to see
Why the one who should care
Seems to deeply hate me.

But let's be real.

Hate has nothing to do with it.


You need to care, to hate.

And you clearly never did.