Hollow Child

Hollow Child

Melissa E. Beckwith

Hollow child stands upon the edge of a cliff wanting to soar.

Will it all stop; will I be no more?

Will I fall and break into a million pieces because I have sinned?

Or will I float away up high and become the wind?

Like a dark cloud it hovers over me everyday.

Rain on my face, or tears, as on the grass I lay.

Not like the other children; I am dark and sad.

“She never fits in,” they say. “She’s always so cloudy and mad.”

Hollow child stands on the edge of a cliff not brave enough to die,

yet not well enough to live.