Why I Feel Nothing

When I was a child,

my mother would tell my father that she simply could not hold me.

That my skin was so fragile and my bones so weak,

that the slightest movement would break me.

And although she never held me,

I grew up knowing I was born in shards,

instead of a new, whole piece.

I grew up with the understanding that anything I touched

would soon crumble to ashes and broken glass.

That only I could make the strongest cry,

to take their will to live and pretend it is my own.

I grew up thinking the only way to build myself up would be

to kill everything around me.

And that is exactly what I did.

But, instead of making me stronger,

it made me dig myself a deeper grave.

Soon, my 6 foot sleeping site turned into a 600 foot burial ground.

And, I was stuck with my shins in the mud and rope around

my now frail neck.

I am nothing,

therefore that is exactly what I feel.