Hollow

There is a sweet,

hollow sadness

sleeping in my chest.

It grows when I am still,

confusing and kind,

it rears its head-

reminding me

I am never enough,

I can never be enough.

A talon grip it has,

clenching my heart

in its greedy fist.

Hollowness is a roaring silence,

unsure of whether to cry

or scream.