Small poems on Empty/Full 

Sometimes I try to remember what it was like. To be whole. To be full. It’s been almost a year now since the crash happened. One would think it wouldn’t be like this. I mean, nobody died or anything. People tell me how lucky I am. And I know that. I am lucky. But when trauma happens, something leaves you. I can’t quite explain it. Maybe it’s your soul, your spirit. But sometimes I think it’s something more. Something that neither science nor religion can fully explain. Because even though it wasn’t me behind the wheel or the car that day, I feel responsible. It was me. I am empty.                                                                                                                                          –CG


I am full

206 bones

640 muscles

I am empty

0 words

0 thoughts



When I am empty I am full,

Full of darkness full of


Full of thoughts of how being nothing in this space

Just a spec with no meaning

Just a dot with no purpose

A body that is full of hollowness

Occupying no talent

No skills

Just space wasted

Time wasted

By an empty body that is full

When I am full I am empty,

Empty of worry, empty of stress

No thoughts racing across my head

Cars carrying the reality

That make me feel the feelings that I feel

Just a carefree state of mind

That very special kind created

By a full body that is empty

And I am always either

Completely full

Or Completely empty

Never both

Never existing



Deep in me I feel empty,

almost like people could see through me,

transparent or opaque, I don’t know

stares and glares every time I walk out of my zone,

no emotion in me,

my vocal chords are trapped,

so much to tell but yet so little courage.


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