Thinking of nothing and being,
Knowing of certain and seeing,
There is hoping and believing,
Good and bad looks often misleading,
Where one rest eyes as they fry,
From thought one cries,
Of sorrow and remorse,
A harden shell to this course,
Actions speaking louder than words,
All spoken all toward,.
The sky with no reply,
No answer with no surprise,
Enter the void that is inside,
All alone and deprived