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The Boy With The Cardboard Heart
When you have nobody
you have somebody and
that somebody is
yourself.
Because you’re
all you’ve got.
So why need
anybody?
Anybody being nobody.
Nobody being somebody.
Somebody being anybody.
Somebody. Somebody. Somebody.
Nobody. Nobody. Nobody.
Anybody. Anybody. Anybody.
Does anybody
understand why
the I feel
like a nobody?
Even though
deep down I know
I’m somebody.
Or maybe I’m nobody.
Or maybe I’m everybody
all at once.
I’d have to be
everybody since
I feel everything.
Everything is nothing.
Nothing is everything
all at once.
Everything. Everything. Everything.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I’m an everybody that
feels like a nobody that
misses a somebody and
that somebody is a
nobody.
And that
nobody is
myself.
I miss myself. I miss myself. I miss myself.
Who am I?
Can anybody
answer the damn
question?
No,
I have to
figure it
out for
myself.
By myself. By myself. By myself.
Myself being me.
Me being selfish.
Selfish for expecting an answer.
Selfish for asking the question.
Questioning questions.
Answering answers.
Answer me this:
What became of the
boy with the cardboard
heart?
Simple:
He folded in on
himself when he realized
that having somebody meant
he’d be nobody because that
somebody made him feel warm.
Warm being hot.
Hot being cold.
Cold being the boy -
Hot, melting cold.
Heartbreak.
Broken heart.
Caught on fire.
Death! Death! Death!
Nothing, Everything
Everything, Nothing
All. At. Once.
Copyright ©
Alijah Rivers
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