Empty
If you respect me, don’t caress me. Dissect me, and if you love it represent me.
I feel empty.
These lines I’m injecting of rhymes I’m perfecting define my repenting.
I feel empty.
I’m trapped in my mind, but no longer trapped when I rhyme. I can see all the flaws and the rawness in these times;
I feel empty.
You saturate my soul with passion and care, and defend me even In ignominious affairs.
You fill me up.
With joy and strength, and aspirations and ambition. You fill me with fervor and taste, and take away my inhibition.
You make me Ray.