Julie Park

Rookie (09-07-69 / Akron, Ohio)

The Hollow Seed - Poem by Julie Park

I fought with myself. I, myself fought with me.
In the mirror, a fist, not a kiss, my face did meet.
I counted on both hands; I have ten fingers to beat.
When fighting with myself, my own fists beating me.

No; blue blood doesn't flow from me when I begin to bleed.
Not from my body; nor from my soul, nor from my spirit breaking.
I’ve died so many times, before; I’ll die again, can’t you see.
I've died simply trying to live and living is simply killing me.

I live with myself and I, myself live with this.
It does hurt quite a lot; much more than a little bit.
Hollow seeds take my life, they bare no fruitful benefit.
I wake up each day knowing that today I’ll die again.

I fight with myself over the tiny, implanted seeds that mean a lot.
One tear dropp of water makes you hollow; just one wet drop
As each day begins, I stow yesterday's seed in Pandora’s box
I wish that I could be whole inside with the passage of time’s tock.

For a moment I seek safety in silence, reflecting myself in a mirror.
Again, I’m afraid of dying alone; of being hollow, my biggest fear.
As I stare into my eyes, I see that familiar someone is drawing near.
A hollow body of a seedless me, I see in a reflection as I disappear.

It’s then that I realize what I was looking at; not a reflection of me.
I forgot about my fists for a moment; I screamed aloud that I disagree.
I fear not evil as I’ve walked with death; unlike life, death has no seed.
There is a sentencing to a hollow life if you're your own worst enemy.

The seed you'll plant will be hollow; I know.
And out of it something will surely grow.
The biggest nothing that you could never want.
It's that which kills you, and, that, only YOU know.

You are the hollow seed that I write of.
You hide deep down in the darkest of dirt.
You pretend to be a rose by another name.
You are convincing of the lies that you birth.

You write about what I am; I'm a hollow seed.
I feel so cold and empty and lost inside.
I just realized that you made me write about me.
As I stared back into my hollow eyes and I cried.

Just one tear dropp fell from my hot cheeks
They stung and burned my face as the water fell down.
The tears are filled with salt and other toxic things.
They turn seeds hollow when they fall from me, all around.

My ten fingers curled tightly into fists.
My own worst enemy; Me, I can't miss.
The hollow seed is me knocking at my front door.
How do I make it go away, as I knock even louder?

Hollow seed, go away. There is no place for your decay.
Don't come back, again; and please don't bother to stay.
Hollow are my fists; beating down upon my own face.
Hollow are my tears; seeding my mind with hollow days.

Do not stay here. Do not come back.
There's nowhere for you to go.
So, we're right back where we started.
With the night, I usher death home.

You know my fears; what it is that makes me so weak.
It's the same thing that makes you so very strong.
How can this hollow seed take so much of my shallow life?
Maybe I was born this way; the knocking is where I'm from.

Open the door. No, just keep it closed.
Maybe there's a chance it'll forget about me.
What are the odds of me going away?
I can't stay here; I'm the hollow seed.

So, I open the door, as I always do.
The hollow seed is waiting just for me.
As I take my last breath, I open my eyes,
and see my own fists are beating on me.

I am the hollow seed.
I'll die again alone.
I am so hollow, me.
I'll never have a home.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Poem Edited: Wednesday, December 30, 2009

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