How do I express myself.
As anything more than mere fragments.
Parts of me are lost.
Buried beneath the weight of myself.
I long to tie it all together.
But my memory is amiss.
What did I aspire to be as a child.
How did I look.
Outside of the villain I was made out to be.
Who was the kid supposed to become.
The void within tells me this is wrong.
The serious shell is askew.
Melancholy wasn't the goal.
Forever unsatisfied.
For what pain inflicts my soul.