I hate this empty feeling
but I cannot stop concealing
my emotions from myself
and the others that I love.
For if I begin to show
the anger that I stow,
I never will again
see the sun that's up above.
It is a sickly fever,
but with a knife or cleaver
I can cut it right out
through my arms or even legs.
But little did I see
the pain it had caused me
and the way my mind
forever weeps and cries and begs.
Torturous and pitiful
My heart is now on critical
status and I hate the
way it feels on the inside.
So no matter what I've felt,
I can admit that I have dealt
with the worst pain ever;
Even the toughest people cried.
Doctors have yet to find a cure,
but for now I'm really sure
that the best suppressant is
joy filling the empty.
But sometimes I like it
The empty is bright-lit
and the joy always seems
to slowly drift to sea.
I hate this empty feeling,
but there's comfort in concealing.
So maybe emptiness
is not really that bad.
I have shed many tears
and shaken in fears,
but emptiness is all
that I have really had.
Now on the contrary,
I do like being merry,
but not feeling is so...
Different in its form.
I would give up happiness
to just only have this:
A cloudy day when others
are caught up in a storm.
So when I start to think
about my life, I slowly sink
into a deep depression
that is... actually quite good.
I do not have to worry,
or cry, or even scurry.
I do not hate this feeling,
and I'm glad I've understood.
