MindWraith

nothing,
empty, I thought
how odd that is
everyone else has
smiles, tears and something
called cares, except I.
My little self sat there mimicking
the upturned and
downturned corners of the lips
mimicked their sound of laugh
their arms in kindness and meanness
mimicked their strides
their speech, the silent and the stresses
their ways and rituals.
Fill-in the emptiness that stood stark.
So embroiled I,
become the many
faces I observed
like second skin.
Now, here, at the corner of the world, weary
I sit quietly
the peels fall back like a blooming lotus
and find myself empty, again
nothing, again
as if
that is all I have ever been
and simply
never, understood


. . .