I am empty,
Trying to squeeze out words
To make a poem that is loved
At the same time hated

A poem that is loved
Because of its familiar sound
A poem that is hated
Because of the reality it portrays

I am empty,
Empty of love
Trying to fill up my heart
Only ending up void again

Again. Here we go again
This feeling of emptiness
Never quite sure
Of one's own emotions

Stranger. Who are you?
It's as if they were strangers
Not knowing what she loves
What she hates,  what she wants

She is her own stranger,
A different person each day
And each day again
That stranger felt empty