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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “I Am the Hollow Where I Hid”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
There is no face— only the shape where one should have been. The void wears my silhouette like borrowed skin. But I do not belong to what I appear to be. Inside me, a smaller self waits— motionless, featureless. Not lost, but trapped in the suggestion of escape. The branches grow from thought. Every memory I forgot sprouts limbs— grasping for meaning through the cracks in my silence. I am both the shadow around the hole and the figure within it— witness and wound, echo and edge. You ask who I am. I answer with what I am not.
Lyrics
There is no face— only the shape where one should have been. The void wears my silhouette like borrowed skin. But I do not belong to what I appear to be. Inside me, a smaller self waits— motionless, featureless. Not lost, but trapped in the suggestion of escape. The branches grow from thought. Every memory I forgot sprouts limbs— grasping for meaning through the cracks in my silence. I am both the shadow around the hole and the figure within it— witness and wound, echo and edge. You ask who I am. I answer with what I am not.
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