The feeling of dropping your toothpaste into the sink,
Of tearing the beautiful packaging,
Of erasing the same thing over and over,
The feeling of disappointment in no one but yourself.

The feeling of a sock with a small little hole,
Disagreements that are left unfold,
Of running out of ink while the ideas were pouring,
The tears suddenly stopped coming when you're crying.

The feeling of having books and books to turn to,
But none of them contain the answer that you're looking for.
Of a rack filled with red,
There's only one blue sticking out.
Of being a whole,
But you feel less of your soul.

The feeling of dissatisfaction.
An accurate description of me.
Of dissatisfaction and worry.

Look at her being all pretty,
When the lightning strikes,
She shows off her beauty.
A solace to your world,
A smile that heals your scars,
When I am just a Nobody,
Sat beneath the shriveled tree,
Waiting for the sun to for once— capture the things that's left of me.