people always wonder why I can’t be happy.

why no number of friends
or goods
can fix the damage
done to my delicate psyche,
which becomes increasingly unstable
on a daily basis.

I can’t say I know for sure
but I think I’ve got a start.

I’m so sad in my heart
and angry in my bones
that there isn’t any room
for anything else.

maybe it’s too late to fix what broke in me.

and maybe this is what emptiness feels like.

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