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9-8-04

3:26 am



I just once.

Want to know.

What it is like.

To be comfortable.

In my own skin.

In my own head.

In my own body.

In my own thoughts.

I don’t fit here.

And I don’t fit there.

My head is like a merry-go-round.

That won’t let me off.

I think myself into a hole.

And then I cry.

I cry because I hate me.

I cry because I miss you.

I cry because I just want to know love.

I cry because I am alone.

I cry alone all the time.

With no one to hold me.

No one to care.

Just me, my thoughts, and a body I hate.

So I sit in an uncomfortable place.

And cry.