Empty.
Holding nothing.
You see the vessel but not the contents,
assuming that within,
holds something.

There is no thing.

I am void.
Replete of content.
I write, I sing and dance,
but nothing here exists.

When I am gone you will pull the lid,
and see the contents.
If you bother.

I doubt you will.
I wouldn't...
... look at nothing with interest.