from the other persepective

emptiness

in a world without existence,

in a place without life itself,

my hands touch.

everything around me is dark,

everything is lost;

there's nothing left.

everything we fight for,

everything we live for;

everything has ceased to be.

what we once called life is gone;

there's nothing.

my hands reach out,

looking to feel warm,

but there is nothing

except cold emptiness.

//rms