There's an emptiness I feel that I have surely tried to hide and fill
with things that "normal" people do to quench my appetite
but it cannot at times it rears its awful empty gaping head and
stirs my blood and brings me down
a heaving chest
a heart of lead
an aching head and itchy eyes a tear soaked pillow on my bed
and plum bruised thighs that bear the weight of hands that cup a sobbing chin
and hides the face that hates to cry
that's forced to stifle all her pride
and take involuntary  blows
the uncontrolled
the deep within
muffled screams and yells of anger all the confusion that I keep
forsook the world and gained a soul
but is that all to reap?