Alienated

I've kinda become a pile of nothing. Like a house that's been empty for quite a while. There are naked walls with nail marks on them, broken open doors, stained windows, and lonely forgotten rooms.

I'm the dissolving ice in the drink that someone left on the beach in the summer to go for a swim.

I'm the sand castle that sea waves washed it away. I'm that favourite toy kids will leave out when the family goes back from the picnic.

I'm the snowman with a carrot as his nose that's slowly melting away at the sunrise when everyone is still in their sweet dreams.

I'm the dried flower in-between the pages of the book you never come back to.

I'm the perfume pushed deep in your drawer you never use again cause you simply don't want to recall the moments we were together.

I'm everything that doesn't need to exist anymore. I'm everything that's ready to be born again.

I'm in my cocoon. I probably am ready.