I’ll sing aloud in my own room sometimes,

And if my voice cannot reach others I’ll sing to myself.

I didn’t regret a move I made that day, and I still don’t.

You had it coming, and you still do.

And apparently I became a shadow of myself by simply using my voice-

But I’m naught but a mere girl, shielding the sun with a clear umbrella,

Throwing a penny in a fountain, wishing for the daily acts not to disappoint again,

And yet distraught when life runs in circles.

I am full of contempt for both you and myself,

You because you have every blind soul wrapped around the tip of your finger,

Myself because I have garnered so many, but none are mine.

Truly and sensitively.

Faces and places and more faces I’ve seen,

Faces that tell me it’s okay if my words don’t rhyme,

But places empty, halls overflowing of solitude

That I’ve recently learned can swallow you whole.

All I ask is to feel full,

And content again.