Empty

There's a sadness in me
a sort of emptiness I can't explain
It's not a feeling that can gotten rid of with tears

It's here every day that I wake
detached from my painless dreams
come home from school
to sit on the same chair, at the same desk,
with the same pencil and the same kind of paper
in the same room enclosed in the same walls,
and every day, I am alone.

This feeling is what I am
This person who stands to the side, secluded in shadows
watching another be loved.
This person wants to be accepted to be appreciated to be acknowledged to be answered.
This person is left in the rain,
wishing for the warmth from a fireplace
and the dead who will understand.
This person's efforts are always, always, always,
falling short of such pillar-high dying expectations
This person, painted with amnesia and punished to be perfect,
rinsed out emotion from her eyes sliced the smiles off her cheeks cut the laughter from her tongue and killed happiness and hope in her heart
This person who so wanted to be needed who so wanted to be saved from falling who so wanted a hand to reach out to help her
This person...this person is...me.