What is this feeling of emptiness I carry?
It isn't depression for I am not sad.
I see myself as perfect the way I was created.
Nothing wrong with my body; I was born with it.
Nothing dull in my mind; I strive to keep it sharp.
Confidence and esteem are not the issues.
But I'm still lacking something as essential as breathing.
Whatever could it be?

I live in a house enshrouded by love.
Never has a problem arisen in my midst.
At least, not one I haven't solved
or accepted to be unsolvable.
Then what is this sensation and loss of motivation?
It might just be my indecisive nature.
Too relaxed.  Agreeing with both sides.
It's not that I don't care, it's just that I have no preference.

Reading blank pages in a book.
It's almost as good as the movie last night.
But living in a glass house isn't as fun as it seems.
Besides, humans are flawed by design.
Eventually, it will all shatter.
Who will be left to clean up the fragments?
I want to be the one, to stain the floor with my blood
as the shards penetrate my soul and tear me apart.

Maybe then, I finally get an answer
to the question I call into the dark.
Instead of the mocking echo of my words,
you'll tell me what is wrong.
I know something is missing so don't lie to me.
I understand what I am, the emotionless monster I've become,
but I'm telling you, that isn't the problem.
I'm tired of being told I'm loved.  Will somebody please hate me?