Maybe Then I Would be Satisfied

Helen Fisher says it is not an emotion.

It is a need,

It is  a hunger,

It is air.

 

And yet so pathetic it seems,

That such a sore which cannot be seen,

Can possibly still be there.

 

Well kill me, if you must!

Scratch me,

Kick me,

Claw me.

It would make more sense.

 

Than this.

 

How cruel it is,

And how silly it sounds.

But I have never felt such a hollow feeling.

I have never felt so low.

 

Don't be a coward,

Give me bruises,

Crack my ribs,

Do what you play to do.

 

Maybe then I will be satisfied.

 

  

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