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The Art of Emptyness
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Personal (Melancholy) Everyone in the world hates me,
and I don't blame them.
The treatment of others
has left me hollowed out.
I inhaled each affliction
and internalized every insult.
They mistake my chest rising
as breathing
when I'm really suffocating.
At some point I started
believing their words:
"You are worthless".
It became my mantra,
and I repeated it
until it became my identity.
The art of emptyness
is easy to master.
At some point I accepted the treatment
I thought I deserved.
The pain eventually went away;
this vacant soul took its place.
But still from the depths,
I could hear a distant sound,
an echo in my chest.
It was me, screaming
to be found
inside this broken heart.
