The world turns with you at its center.
People racing about you, buzzing like bees.
So consumed with themselves that they fail to take notice
Of the simple things that are happening around them.

None of these people know my thoughts.
They don't see my struggles.

My world is people.
I am nothing without them.
They feed my senses, and give life to the husk I call my body.

The person I am when the husk takes over
Is not me,
Rather them in an unfamiliar form.
They love me because I am them,
Like moths to a flame they draw near to me.

When alone I am simply a husk who
Feels nothing.
Says nothing.
Does. Nothing.
All I am when alone is emptiness and hatred in human form.

Husks must be occupied, and their hunger will not fade while they stand alone.

I hate the person I am alone,
Yet I'm alone more than not.
I try to ease my pain,
To silence the voices that whisper hate into my ear.

When dawn breaks through the widows, and I'm back with the buzzing bees,
I feel the hunger subside.
I know could never be my own person,
So long as I choose to rely on others,

For a husk without food will perish,
And so to,
I fear,
Will I.
© J.D.L