Hollow

Who knew that being hollow was worse than being in pain? That heartbreak hurt less than nothing at all. That a tear-stained face and raw throat couldn't compare To great empty stretches with echoes; Echoes of love, of joy, of warmth. To know that a cry for help would be answered by a cold, lonely silence, Mocking in its absolute presence. Who knew that pain would be welcomed? That it was a reminder that there was still a soul in the body, Not an empty shell, not a brightly painted mask with a smile that could fool anyone, But living, and breathing, and loving, Fighting, surviving, and great.