If I where known
By my famous poems
Would not the world
Be at my feet?
Sacred halls
Gathering all
Of the words
That I speak
Special days
For my praise
As they repost
My every thought
But instead
I struggle
To make one trend
As my ego
Pays the cost...

I am a great half alive tragedy,
A hole with a body,
A silence with a voice,
A being without the human.
I drag my nails down my skin,
making sure i am still here,
but I still remain a hartbeating nothing.
Until it crashes me,
And my throat gets dry,
And my lungs burn like August sun,
And my heartbeat echoes,
And my stomach feels empty and full at the same time,
And all the tears I‘ve been holding back wet my eyes in just a blink,
And I can hear my heart cracking,
And I can feel my numbness healing it again.