This Black Sheep Became a Hollow Bone

Notes from the Hollow Bone, entry seven

I wrote this in 2014. I almost didn’t share it.

My ego called it embarrassing—an old mindset, a version of me that’s since evolved. But my soul whispered louder: “Share it.”

There is no shame here. No judgment could shake me. Vulnerability is strength, and strength lives in the honesty of our becoming.

This was me—grappling, questioning, surviving.
And still… rising.
This is a note from the past, echoed forward by grace.

So I offer this piece of my journey to whoever might still be in the storm, who wonders if anyone else has felt the same ache, the same fire. You’re not alone. The hollowing makes room for the holy.

With Grace & Ink,
Mai

Black Sheep
Written 11.24.2014

Always connected to the struggle,
can't seem to catch a breath before there's struggle.
Trying so hard to make things right,
trying to understand why it's always a fight.
Living this life, escape into a dream,
reminded every day things are what they seem.

Faces... shadows... they all wear a mask—
no one wants the truth, no one wants to ask.
You fall hard and no one's around;
silence within silence becomes only sound.
Smile and keep your head up...
isn't that what we're told?
Have faith and pray,
but this world is still cold.

Lord, forgive me when I don't have the words to say,
and when I wonder if you've forgotten me somewhere along the way.
Paycheck to paycheck just to survive—
no one wants the ugly truth; they'd rather have beautiful lies.
So tell them you're okay, everything's just fine...
Show them no tears; it's just a waste of time.

Never accepted, always misunderstood—
this black sheep, like others, lost in the world of "things should"—"things could"—
yet I'm still trying...
Sunrise to sunset, east and west meet—
how many will cry?
Who will come when you're under six feet.

—Mai