Now I lay me down to sleep
And I pray my soul to reap
If I die before I wake
Know this world ain't safe
And so I rest my weary head
In hope that I might waken dead
For mercy and grace
Have all but fled
This world of rust

It hurts sometimes,
to continue standing tall.
I can look behind,
See them on the ground,
The ones ahead, reaching the stars.

It hurts sometimes,
Walking quickly, doubting myself.
Behind me, others struggle to drag themselves,
Across the expanse of the challenge.
The ones ahead are sprinting to the goals.

It hurts sometimes,
To not be able to see.
My eyes may be open,
taking in color, shape, detail,
But to truly see? For that, I wish

It hurts sometime,
to be alone, away from the strings
away from emotions
away from closeness
from dear friends
from family
the connections
the cues
dynamics
love

It hurts sometimes,
I want to be a part of it.
I'm not.

I want to be a part of it all.

It really, really does hurt.

I'm sorry.
If that's what I'm supposed to be.
My mother always told me
I need to increase
My humility.

I'm sorry.
Truly painfully.
But I'm stubborn
and can't afford
to be
small.

Because my ego is
built like a house
That I live in
and breathe for.
I worked
for this house.
For this roof that covers my head
and no one else's.

Look,
I'm sorry.

Passionately.
For who I know
and who I do not know
how to be.
**** me.
I'm Sorry.

To me, I'm Schrodinger's Cat,
A peculiar feeling at that.
Both alive and dead,
My heart rate is sped,
But inside, well, it seems I am flat.

Feeling extra detached,
My empathy - unlatched.
Surplus time alone,
Odd feeling to the bone.
Never lonely,
But looking for a shift in emotion.
People can sometimes provide,
This motion.
Truly seeking just one person,
For perspective immersion.
A being who I personally find,
To have a lavishly beautiful mind.

I am empty,
unfeeling;
That was what I felt when I met you.

You cried for those who were miserable,
and I only thought it vain.
You fought so vigilantly for everything,
and I did the same,
with my own perspective.

You were a child with big dreams.
I was the adult with true realism.

But I was trying.
I only dreamt of a world with you.
I did not realize of the destruction I was capable of,
and I was not aware of the calamity that lived within me.

I had lost you,
and only did I know then
that I was never empty.

I was filled with the existence of you.

And now you are gone.

So tell me,
what am I now?

— Y.H.

lost love,
gentle fervor.