Oh, when they admired me — it was affection,

When they smiled at me — it was love,
That quenched my thirst for a deeper connection,
for a while until I’d remember I had no one.

The pain would subside when they liked me,
Life felt less desolate when they called me extraordinary,
It blurred the constant longing,
And turned me into something otherworldly, gold.

And so, I’d write, ‘cause nothing else mattered anymore,
If the silence inside me never learned to speak,
If the hollow within me refused to fade,
‘Cause if I’d forge diamonds out of darkness, they’d see me,
If I pull brilliance out of the void, they’d appreciate me more,
And if I etch meaning into incessant emptiness,
They would close the distance within me.

Oh, one day, to be adored and cherished by the masses,
To be loved and needed unconditionally,
Became the reason I stayed,
Got done with sunsets and rainbows,
And gave myself to starless skies and velvet voids, completely,
Away from anything that should hold me back.

I sailed to a different island,
Gave up pieces of myself for something eternal,
To become something that would outlive me—
A true wordsmith,
With a gift for turning anguish into art.

But when the ink wasn’t enough,
I used the blood from my veins,
Carving crimson letters into paper.

It didn’t matter if I was dying,
Or if my world began unravelling,
As long as my words remained,
Etched in blood and memory,
I would live on—
Cherished, but never loved.

Cherished, but never loved.

– ni