To all the melodies unheard
To all the words that are unsaid
To all the emotions unexpressed
To all the pain that has never hurt
To all the strength that was never gathered
To all the fear that has never evaded
To all the smiles that never surface
To all the joy that never shimmers
To all the poetry that was never written
To all the colors that were never sprayed
To all the anger that was never let out
To all the love that has never survived
I only have one question to ask . . .
What have you done to me?
Why am I so complete and yet incomplete?
Why am I so full and yet empty?
Why am I so happy and yet sad?
Why am I so content and yet carving?
Why am I so confident and yet jittery?
Why am I so funny and yet melancholic?
Why am I what I am?
Why am I lonely?
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