To Fill That Void

There's a question that I constantly ask myself.
When I was young and naïve,
When the world as I knew it was essentially full of joy,
I asked myself, what is it that I desire?

When I found an obssession,
And fussed day in and out about it,
I asked myself, is this what I desire?

When I found the apple of my eye,
When I saw that smile,
I asked myself, what is it that I desire?

When dreams crashed,
When reality dawned,
And sorrow was all that I could find,
I asked myself, what is it that I desire?

When I trudged on confused and disoriented,
When nothing is not as it should be,
I asked myself, what is it that I desire?

When I busy myself,
When I laugh,
Even though I feel like crying,
As I write,
As I stare into the night sky,

What is it that I desire?

As I remember that smile,
As I reflect upon my choices,
That laughter, that voice, those precious memories,

I am reminded of the wounds that refuse to heal.

As I ask myself once again,
What is it that I desire?