Can you grab the mist and shape it with your hollowed hands?
Can you ever really mend a broken a heart?
I don't need to wake up tomorrow.
I've got nowhere to go.
I haven't got someone expecting me.
There's no one depending on me.
No one misses me terribly.
My voice isn't someone's favorite sound.

Can you really mend a broken heart
that is always being broken again and again
by the hands of indifference and abandonment?

I had nothing to do. Only what others expected me to.
Society decided for me way long before I was born.
I didn't grab the mist, turns out my hands where always hollow.