Empty,
emptiness.
The void which nothing fills.
The dreaded knowledge time provides,
screaming.
Screaming that you can't reach.
That hollowness is life,
the socially excepted facade.
That we are happy with others.
Yet not ourselves
YOU ARE READING
Me bitching about life through poetry.
PoetryProbably never going to be updated so I wouldn't bother adding it to your library. Not that you would anyway.
