there comes a point in time where the word "nothing" describes everything that resides inside you.
the word nothing as in the black hole that has hypnotized you,
as day by day, you inch closer to your suicide mission of love,
the word nothing as in the abyss of words that you wish you could have said,
but now elegantly dance around the tip of your tongue waiting for their escape from the most torturous of prisons,
the word nothing as in what you felt as his foul hands touched every part of your body,
and as they touched your heart,
you could feel yourself turn into a statue with a sign of mockery that said, "this girl is diseased by what could never be" as the spotlights shined brightly on you.
so when people started showering you with "what's wrong?"
all that could squeeze past the dancing words that were still under arrest was "nothing."
and to some extent, you were right.
you said "nothing," as in "i feel like nothing,"
you said "nothing," as in "i have nothing,"
you said "nothing," as in "i am nothing."
but all those nothing's that corrupt your mind to the darkest shade of black,
create one big impeccable something,
that fills up a room like the air we breathe every second.
i breathe all your nothing's,
inhale them like the particles of dust that sneak up on your nose,
and cause the pre-cold that leads to months and months of infection.
and eventually, those dust particles of nothing begin to define you and invade every cell of your body until a big fat wooden sign appears on your forehead that says "warning: nothing,"
as if you were an animal,
waiting for its first meal of the day in a zoo.
are you really going to let this four by four block of wood define you?
are you going to let this nothing,
this void that flows through your veins more than the blood that keeps you alive,
become your everything?