pretty façade

Nothing feels right.
Nothing is the way it should be.
Nothing is the way it used to be.
Sometimes
that’s what I feel –




nothing.
Numb

hurt
Empty
filled with anxiety

Cold

always freezing

Alone

by myself.

Like I am nothing.
Ignored in the halls

petty questions
pretty façades

shunned

for what I no longer am,

for what I refused to give up,

for fitting out,

for not opening up.
It’s a double standard,
difficult to fulfill,
even harder to achieve

When I give zero percent.