Why does everyone
fill their empty parts
with pieces of me
and when they leave
I'm left more empty?

Why does everyone
fill their voids with me
and forget that I have feelings
and that they can't be shaped like
clay in their cold hard hands
that only create when the head that
moves them has run out of options
I'm not a second option,
I'm not a last
I'm sick of people filling their empty parts with me
and leaving and not coming back