Blank is my name

There’s this little space inside of me
Hollow and Sad and Still.
Sometimes it grows so large it yawns like a cavernous cave
and blots everything good out.
But mostly it sleeps like a little child with a smile on its face
dreaming of seeing the sun.
What I want is to put in its place
A rose-coloured rose-scented moon.

Is it wrong to feel this way? It’s me.