i’m staring at this blank page again
wondering what to write
when the words lock themselves away
and i am left with nothing but myself
how lonely that is
how e m p t y i am
my fingers twitch as if to reach
for something
my feet itch to run towards a better life
but every morning
with the rise of the sun
i don the same garb
walk the same walk
until i am drowning in the repetitiveness of it all
until i wonder why i’m even here
“there must be more to this life“
i think
and watch everyone move on without me
at a speed so great
i am coughing up dust
coughing up the lies i told myself
so that i could remain a shriveled thing
instead of swimming towards the light
but the light hurts
it blinds my eyes
and pulls sobs from little nooks and crannies
i thought were vacant

Esther L. Krenzin

Everyday I hear neighbours' kid crying,
teachers laughing in the staffroom,
nurses & doctors whispering behind closed doors,
men at bars covered in puke,
tired gas station attendants,
sunken faces of those who leave in the blink of an eye
and a colour which I don't remeber well,
staring back at me in the mirror.
I hear neighbours' kid crying,
again.
But I don't get it.
Again.