Trapped

I’m not in a good place; I have been trapped here for far too long.

This place is not bad. I’ve lived in bad, I’ve crawled half dead out of bad.

This is simply empty, a vast expanse of nothing.

An emptiness of spirit, an emptiness of emotion, an emptiness of soul,

I walk without end, no trace of a step to show where I’ve been.

Nothing around me changes that would suggest I am making any meaningful progress.

It just stays the same … no matter where I turn; no matter how far or fast I go

The silent void surrounds me with the same muted color, the same flat ground leading to a far of horizon of gray and brown.

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