I used to be emotional
But then I learned to hate to cry.
I took emotions, cut them down,
And burned the stumps to ash.
I used to know what happy meant
And sad and overwhelmed,
But now it’s all an empty space
Where once emotions played around.
But emptiness, I’ve come to find,
Can be a comfort in itself.
Unless emotions start to grow.
Emotions now are ugly things,
But relics of what once was pure.
They’re twisted, crusty, awful now,
The growth of stumps once burned to ash.