I am from Tsing dao to Manhattan, Puerto Rico, and back.

I am from the golden road leading to the sixth house on the mountainous hill,

Where the doors open to a destructive shadow.

I am from the painful memories that exist in my brain

To the lack of emotions flowing through my veins.

I am the emptiness,

The void within this wretched mind.

No past, no future, no present left to find.

I am the long nights spent awake,

While my mind is divorcing my thoughts

In attempt to sleep through this endlessly silent night,

But my mind speaks louder then words ever will.

I am the empty words on the page,

to the numbers, and the thoughts I create,

But who am I?

I am me,

A forgotten hero,

A lost hope,

The only one who would forever forgive a demon for their actions.

The only one who would comfort ones needs,

I am the only one who gives but never receives.

Where my emotions used to be is here,

Inside of me.

But my mind has disconnected,

Nothing was there,

Not now, not before, nor will it ever be.

I am from the void in my mind

the logic one sees,

I am no longer an emotion,

just a thought like the breeze.

I am in your head but will never show

just as a soldier is to his foe.

You’re lost without me,

But I am lost without you.

So who am I?

                                                                  I am me.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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