This is a poem about what has been lost from oneself, or what slowly faded out from one's life.

something i can't figure,                   i look at myself,                                   i see empty voids,                         that i can't fill with anything that comes my way,

i feel the wind with every ounce of it's smell,                                           i see the world with every colour it withholds.                                       then there's me i wanna feel as a whole,                                                   why is it that the voids are  even filled, with what's no more?     for will there come a day, when something breaks thorough these holes?

Why is it me, that gets to be incomplete?                                           Or is it just me?                                   For every man's lost a part of what he was,                               every women's lost a part of what she was.

Is it just the world complete?   for the humans remain, with voids to be filled,                                 with somthing that still remains, just not within oneself? 

My memories stay,                       my memories walk,                           In my mind and around, somewhere in the crowd,                 in the voices in my head,               the tones in my heart.

For I've stopped longing, for what isn't there,                             At the end, I'm by myself, with stories everyone's left in me.

Description: We all are people who've lost things in our lives. Either something we loved, or someone who meant a lot to us. As time passes these remain as wounds, or as empty voids in us, they leave such voids irreplaceable by anything that comes,so we continue our journey with those voids empty, yet filled with something that's been left by something/ someone who's not there.

It's weird, sad, and fulfilling at the same time that everything and everyone that was once in our life, somehow leave an imprint that stays until the very end. And slowly we just start to learn living with  those imprints of what it was, and expectations of what it could have been.

No matter how much we think time has taken away the memories, one little moment of something, brings us flashbacks of what we once had or what we once experienced. At the same time we smile, we cry a little inside, we re-open the healing wound even if that doesn't hurt anymore. Infact we're all people who are made up of everything we've felt, everything we've experienced, the people we've met, the stories we've shared. 

At the end of the day, we're incomplete as we're made up of things that are no longer there. Yet we're complete of all the things we remember from what's lost .