Être Vide

One of my therapy assignments this week is to write a poem about what we've been doing; that is trying to teach my mind to feel emotions in the present. Well, poetry doesn't always go according to plan. This has been going around my head, stopping me from sleeping. So here it is...

- - -

Sometimes...

   being blank can feel like being a kite,

   way up high in the sky,

   looking down at the every day people,

   who seem to be so far far away.

Sometimes...

   being blank can feel like being a big lump of rock

   plonked in the middle of a town square

   where people ignore you

      walk around you

      urinate against you

      use you as a prop

   definitely don't notice you.

Sometimes...

   being blank feels like being suffocated

   an opaque plastic bag tied over your head

   the more you try to breathe, the less air there is

   you can see the world carrying on by

   no one caring that you're dying.

And yet, sometimes...

   being blank can be a blessed relief

   from the every day people

   from the people walking by

   from the people using you,

      treating you like crap,

      not noticing you

   from the people suffocating you.

Sometimes...

   being blank is easier.