broken doll with no reprieve

i think im empty.

its so easy for others

to throw out life.

possibility is naught

potential is empty.

and i,

i stand here

and wring my hands

and scrape with bloody fingers

and yell with silenced soul

cause all those things

are life

to me..

but i,

i am not worth.

i am not heavy with meaning,

i am not-

im just

not anything.

not anything at all.

and the silence at the other end

is deafening.

and the lack of touch

is shriveling.

and the ignorance of

whatever small worth

i might have the ability to be,

is fatal.

and all thats left

is the prayer

of another

who can breathe life back

from whence it was stolen

and grab hold to small hand

and see beyond


its just a far flung prayer.

but its all i have.

cause like i said,

i dont have much.



i know.

i i know its nothing.

but its all ive got.

its all




About lifeofawillow
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