I was hoping, wishing, thinking,
that maybe if you took a peak inside of my
crammed thoughts, you’d help me decide
who I was. Who I was going to be.

But then you decided that you should cut me open
and analyze what I looked like inside.
But you didn’t come out with any answers
except confusion pulled tight
across your face.

You said, “It’s alright,” but I didn’t agree.
I saw the fear in your eyes;
you didn’t know what to believe either. Then
you sewed me up and said, “Sit tight,
I’ll be right back.” But you never came.

I waited and I hoped and I wished,
but that door stayed shut, and
my questions were still floating
around the room and inside
of my empty skull.
And I was still bleeding,
and I was still alone.

So now I’m stuck searching and waiting.
I’m stuck wondering why everything is as
it is and why I have only what’s
in my mind to answer all of my pointless
questions. But all that
seems to repeat anymore is that
It’s okay; It’s okay.
But I don’t want to be empty anymore.