I don't have space.
I don't have anything.
I don't have my own body.
I don't have my own arms.
I can't feel myself in me.
I can't feel anything.
I don't have a door to close.
I don't have a window to open.
I have my mind, but it's lost in other's thoughts.
I have me, but I don't know who I am.
I have no goals.
My goals are what people want.
I don't know why I'm here.
I'm a machine following commands.
I'm allowed to feel emptiness.
I'm the one who allows me.
I'm an empty hole.
I feel myself being ripped out of me.
And I'm the one who's ripping me out.
YOU ARE READING
I don't know yet.
PoetryI can scream but it isn't enough. It's not enough 'cause these screams are silent. (Written by me)
