My Soul Has a Hole as Big as the Sea

My soul has a hole as big as the sea.

People see through it,
    and hence don't see me.

My parents dug the hole,
    a few others picked at it, too.

They hid the fill from me.
    I've been looking for it ever since.

I am flawed because I've been gnawed.
    Wanting to be generous, becoming delirious.

My heart selfishly perverted,
    even when I try to do good.

My mind plays this trick,
    making me think that I'm sick.

I keep trying to jam the square peg
    into that round hole in my soul.

I say to myself it's good enough to be respected and appreciated.
    But what I really desire is to be praised and admired.

I try to tell myself it's not about me,
    but after a while cry out, "Why not? Why not me?"

"Where am I?
    Don't I matter?"

Then, I forget I even have a soul,
    and see nothing but the hole.

I see the hole as big as the sea.
    Then I see the sea is vast in me.

Vast and huge, deep, complex, fluid,
   creative, sensual, essential, full of life.

My soul doesn't have a hole as big as the sea.
    The hole as big as the sea is my soul in me.

(Dedicated to survivors everywhere.)