To Lose It All

The tears the flood the sea are now dry.
A drought consumes your throat and gasping for air you inhale a dust that forces you to succumb to your fate.
You're living, you're breathing, and moving, and you're empty.
A shell of your former self. The ghost of a perfect stranger.
There's no complexity in disillusionment; And an empty locked room remains that way until a purpose is brought to its doorstep.
But without the drive, the purpose barely thrives.