Nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
There was always nothing.
And sometimes, I wish there was
Something,
Anything.
Then suddenly there is,
But happiness is never permanent.
And once again,
I'm left with nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
YOU ARE READING
the war against myself
Poetrya trash bin full of my thoughts. revised; 2018 ✓ published; 2015 ☺︎ ranking; ⌗228 in poetic (2018) ranking; #9 on raw poetry (2019)
