The time has come, the girl did say,
To speak of many things,
To see the tower and the palace stand,
A home to Kings and Queens.

Now the sun is here to shine it's fearful rays on me -
The girl most royal of all.
To be fair and wise, and beautiful,
And to break all protocol.

I want to swallow myself whole
and feel this pain implode on itself.

I want to bite my flesh
and spit poison on the street.

I want to claw my face off
and look the way I feel: an old onion.

I want to die now
and take this weight off these tired feet.

I am nothing to no-one.
Like a comet, you cannot find me.
Only catch a glimpse.
Out of the corner of your eye.
As I disappear in a blink.
To someone else's space.

Every time I feel myself falling, I try to grab onto you.
Slipping my arm through yours, hand locking around your waist.
Broadcasting your warmth from every pore - I relent, knots unwinding
for that second before you steel up tall, lock your chin, and frown.
Then you shake me loose. I can see on your face that you don’t want to push me away
Which is why you’re not. You’re shaking me over the centre of the earth
But it is my gravity that will claw me down and **** me.

This is your epicentre. The point where all your earthquakes start:
You did not push me down the hole. You merely shook me loose over it. Differentiation.

This is the bottom.
For months, I have felt this hollow tunnel inside of me. It has been the only constant for a while. Like a wind tunnel on fire.  

Steadily I have felt worse in ways I never imagined. Each morning has been harder to get out of bed; I genuinely can't remember a day that didn't start with me bent over the toilet. Yet I stand, shakily. Sometimes covered in ***** - and I clean myself up.
I get in my car. And I drive to work.

I am empty inside. I have no story. I have no melody.
I am untitled.