A Hollow Despair
by danielle wiener
He was skinny. Too skinny, some might say. And though his presence was enormous, Filling every little nanometer of space of whatever room he entered, He somehow seemed a bit too small. When he was quiet, The Earth felt wrong, The planet felt as though it was weeping. And she cried, As if his hurt was her hurt. Every time he pulled that mask down over his face, She wondered: “Who was he trying to convince more, The world or himself?” This world was too small for his weeping heart, His sorrow could not be contained in his Fragile human bones. When she wrote the word human On a piece of smooth parchment paper, It had seemed so small When describing him, Because in the end, That’s all he was, HUMAN And mankind was never designed to withstand Despair as hollow and expansive as his.
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