of the tongue
               and body
           as it beats
              the demons
                 of my own silence to a gentle hum –
  a drunk laced
   representation
    of what the watching eyes
                                        desire,
            ­                            crave,
                              ­          emulate
                                          in their sacred spaces –
      center stage
     with every performer
         abroad this conditioned
               disillusion –
     how it masks
      all the confusion
       for those that
         jumped in early –
   the lights
    look so friendly
   when you need them,
      but it's you
        who feeds
            them –
          and you die
    without knowing it,
                 you cry
    without showing it –
    mourn, in distractions,
      what could have been;
      what could have been
          if you didn't have
             to keep on
                       searching –

    the pen marks
   rely on the same security,
       lost in its
        contrived purity –

           the light is blinding,
            but it keeps us from
  rewinding,
  reminding
    our hearts of the pain
    or the game,
all the same –

wanting too much
for no good reason -

It's been four and a half years since I took my dog, and left the rainy little state of Washington. At seventeen, you never expected me to make a life for myself. I was just your incomplete daughter, whose name you cringed saying. I shouldn't like girls and I shouldn't smoke ***. Music is only a dream and poetry is no real goal. Abigail. You gave me a beautiful name, one I used to cherish. On my birthday, when you (in your drunken stupor) sat me down, over a bottle of wine, I never thought animosity would come from your heart.

I was never empty before, under the misconception of love. You called me hollow, and that word can never be retaken. So I have taken that name, and with it I will pave my own existence.

I am Hollow, nothing else, nothing more.

I am a shell, void of life, lost in the sands.

I can't settle down, because I am cursed to emptiness.

Who wants me?

After all, I am *Hollow.

Yeah, the fool who accepts blindness
It's tricky wandering through the darkness
With bare feet

That **** will get you hurt
You might bleed

But don't confide in me
I'm done being an outlet for you
And you, and you too

Do things on your own
You need independence
Not help

Oh yeah
Bandages are behind the mirror