Were it not for the spectacle of extroversion,
I would have committed suicide a long time ago.
But there are no creative ways to die that have
inspired me yet.
So I died on the outside, to the world I am dead,
and live on abundantly, on inside instead.
It would be much easier to leave me be,
Forget my existence, ignore your attempts at civility.
Don’t question yourself, with your soul plea,
Ignore your heart, get off your knees.
I’m numb to it all, I don’t feel anything more,
I’m struggling even, my children to adore.
I’m barren and empty, stricken and sore,
I have no enigma, I have no lore.
Nothing to offer, nothing to take,
No heart swell, no heart ache.
Mindless and cold, still as a lake,
Slumber escapes me, forever awake.