There is a hole within me, one I cannot fill
I felt it rip me open one day and it hasn't left me still
It refuses objects, people and substances.
Nothing seems to fit just right, no matter what I offer it
It's as if it's a black hole and carrying these things away
instead of building up my offerings to fill it day by day
I can feel it growing larger while time is growing thin
I'm struggling to find the perfect thing to fill it with
But nothing yet has been the same size or shape
I've become puzzle with pieces that won't participate  
If I do not I'm afraid it'll overtake me and I'll soon become nothing.
When I just wanted to be whole and maybe then be something.