sweet child

I am, like the title, incomplete. 

I wonder, as I fall asleep, or as I walk alone, do you think of me? 

Are my dreams, just my mind drifting into what I would like reality to be? Or are they memories they I am reliving; memories that I don’t remember, memories that are dead to the ears of the world, but only come alive when my mind isn’t preoccupied with reality. 

Where are you, exactly? Where are you, in your walk of life, or are you even walking? 

I am well aware that you are alive, but are you alive, well and truly, in my walk of life? 

Where do I find the words to say, or the courage, to bring myself to say them? 

I’ve lost a part of me, a long time ago. I’ve lost more artistic ability than I would like to admit, for one. On a more abstract scale, I lost compassion, empathy, and happiness along the way. 

Am I allowed to feel sad for myself? Maybe not, I’ll never know. Will I ever listen? Maybe, I don’t know – depends. 

I have one question for you, just one, I promise it’s the last one. 

What’s it like, to leave me behind? 


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