Hollowed Home
My fingers have become numb from writing about my pain, this notebook has become my solitude, something to keep me sane.
My soul feels so thin and on the verge of empty, caused by the hurt of all those that left me.
Maybe I'll find some place where I can feel the warmth again, but my question is not only where but also when?
Maybe I should accept this sad, hollowed home, a place I've grown to hate and always feel so alone.
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