Hollow

I was real once
stuff and nonsense
I had a life outside
Of the fantasies we all hold
Now I am empty
A shell of the illusion of myself
Like a tree long dead
On the surface I am fine
But in my core
Exist cobwebs and dust
The brittle remains of my emotions
Ground to fine powder
Under the feet of the past

There are 64 colours in a crayon box
Melt them together and you get black
The absence of color
like my soul
The absence of anything
I WANT TO BE A REAL GIRL

i want to be a real girl

Filled with the colors of life
Instead I am a facade
I am a parody of life
But on the inside


hollow


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