Something has changed.
I have changed.
I used to have worlds of ideas tucked between the strands of my hair,
Poems swimming underneath my skin.
I used to write poetry, be a poet.
But now I am the poem, and fate is writing me.
I used to be lonely, trapped in my own little world,
But now I am powerless, trapped in others.
And that is so, so much worse.
And into the forest I go, looking for my mind and my soul.
I am out with lanterns, looking for myself, but
I cannot see past these twisting branches,
My twisty brain, weaving me in and out of
Control of myself.
I am midnight, the darkest of the dark.
No fire can contain me,
No star can overpower me.
I used to be the brightest sun in the galaxy,
Stars spilling out my eyes everytime I wept.
But now I am a black hole, sucking hope and
Twisting it into my own little song.
I wish to be nothingness,
And I dream of life,
Being able to lie down by a slow river,
Staring at the light of the trees,
And to learn, to love something
In that nothingness.