Lost and alone,
My thumb presses down on my wrist,
My senses shut down,
I become one with the pulse,
For a slow beautiful minute,
I am no longer empty,
The reminder relaxes my muscles,
My body is no longer tense,
For the beating is evidence of my existence,
The aching that sizzles in the core of my bones,
Has purpose,
And meaning,
Every beat,
Is like clockwork,
Clogs all working together in harmony,
To hear each pulse they create,
Like somebody actually cares,
Overall,
It's proof that I have a heart,
That there is something inside of me,
Under skin,
That I am human.
Then,
I remove my thumb,
Once again,
I am empty,
Once again,
I am alone,
Once again,
I am emotionless,
I am just,
A cold,
Lifeless vessel,
Who drifts around,
Like she's mundane,
Like she's a human being,
But remember,
Appearances aren't everything...
Her body is just skin.
