Vacant

I am vacant in this life.

Day to day is the same.

I wake. Tired.

I dread putting one foot in front of the other.

But I do it anyway.

I am vacant in these shoes

They wear me like two burdens.

A concrete strain.

I amble with no urgency.

I face blistering self-punishment.

I am vacant in these clothes.

I have form,

But inhabit nothing.

They hang on me

As if I were a doll.

Still and plastic.

I am vacant in this skin

I am here,

But not here.

I am a husk.

Inedible.

Waiting to be forgotten.

-Stephanie Janecek, 2019

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