Whole

I can’t.

That can't be how it starts. But wait, let me finish, how does that even make sense.

What I meant to say was This whole I feel, I'm not sure where or how it began.

How can my strongest muscle feel empty? I'm alive, so how can I feel lifeless. My words, and thoughts, and beliefs, drowned. Muzzled and choked. Silenced, and killed, by humorous rage. Filling with harm I swore not to pass on.

How else do I remove it.

I see a whole target. You see too? Or more-- depending on the hole you're trying to create. What are you filling yours with. Or will it remain empty?

That's foolish talk coming out now. It never remains the way we leave it. Filled with neglect some call love. They say one strangers help can hurt the other.

Who are they?  Me. I just made that up. I think. I believe that. There is no one to tell me any different. And if there was, I don't have to listen. I know what keeps me whole. I’ll empty when I'm ready. When I see something worth filling.