There are nights that I want to
take the world with me

and I just don't know what to
do with its burden,
I let go empty handed
and still feel the weight
on my shoulders.

I turn to people, literature,
and sometimes
to God himself
and still, I come empty like these cigarettes in and out of my system.

It's hard to stay hopeful
when the help that comes out
of their mouths stay
as mere letters in thin air.

For a world that is over populated,
I feel so empty that it's humorous, irrelevant and hidden.  

I just need a little bit of time
to reflect about everything,
from years and years back
and when it all comes clear to me,
I'll shatter the glass:

A final form, reached right
before its due.