Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
That's what's inside,
And surprisingly,
It doesn't bother me.
It was:
Comforting, like the
Soft waves of the sea,
Or the gentle breeze of the wind,
Or the rays of the sun,
Or even the dimness of the moon.
It touches what's within.
If there's any, that's it.
I'm feeling everything
That I can't even feel anything
That I can feel nothing
Anymore.
How can someone feel so empty
With no particular reason at all?
How can someone cry
When there's nothing to cry for---
When there's literally nothing
Like that someone
Who is empty to begin with?
Shouldn't someone cry for
What existed and got lost
Not because something doesn't?
Not because of nothing?
Nothing feels RIGHT anymore.
NOTHING feels right anymore.
Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
That's what's inside,
Eating the life out of me,
wanting me to cease to exist,
Tearing me from I don't know what.
Is this something you should nurse?
The pain for it to go away,
Or for you to be immune with it,
To be constantly reminded,
That you're still alive,
That you're still capable
Of feeling just anything
Even if it is painful.
Despite the nothingness
That shades your being,
Despite the tears that came after
That threatened to spill even after
You let them all out;
It just wouldn't stop, would it?
Like how this emptiness can't be filled?
The wind is lucky it has the trees
That danced with it
With the daisies swaying
To the symphony of its existence.
The sun is lucky it has its light
That shines day and night
With its rays stretched proudly
And its warmth embracing thee.
The moon is lucky it has the stars
Giving company to lonely hearts
Or longing gazes through the night
Never minding the light years apart.
The water is lucky it has hydrogen
And a dose of oxygen
That it can breathe life
Calming the storm I'm brewing.
The earth is lucky it has all these
That made it important
To everyone's existence
That it's something
One can't live
Without.
When will I be lucky
When I don't even know
If I still have my soul;
When the only thing I know
Is that I'm becoming a shell
With nothing inside,
With a hollow inside,
Like a huge chunk of me
Was eaten by
An endearing, savage, yet
Eerily silent nothingness.
Empty, hollow, eerily silent;
That's what's inside,
But it doesn't matter
Because people don't have the time
To look past the soul;
Only the outside---
The shell of a being I once was.