"I've been huntin' for a kindly ear but couldn't find one near and wound up talking to myself."
(Thanks to George Watsky)
Is living just the means of filling that bottomless hole?
Sometimes my voice echoes in the ambient roar inside my head; the reverberating buzz of a million answerless questions.
Sometimes I can’t recognise my reflection; seeing the shadowy outline instead of the person looking back.
Am I real, am I invisible?
Worse, am I and my value unacknowledged even to myself?
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 14 March 2018
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