I used to cry my self to sleep,
feel the hole in my chest,
made from not seeing my dad.
But now my eyes are dry.
I used to hate my mom,
take pleasure from her pain,
wish that murder weren’t a crime.
But now I just ignore her.
I used to feel the pain,
ever-present, always waiting,
ready to overwhelm me.
But now I feel nothing.
A lifeless husk
visible outside
invisible inside
unfeeling
nothing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem