it’s vast
this space
of nothing
empty streets
of a capital city
echoes of old traffic
and shadows from the moon
(In this first part, I talk about my mind. It used to be the capital city of thoughts, and now I feel like a ghost town on an island that didn’t mean to die.)
it’s hard
this hurt
of nothing
my healed skin
on a broken body
echoes of old pain
unable to reach any tympanum
(This second part, I talk about physically feeling broken. Knowing that I have no bruises anymore. My body feels like a balloon that lost all of it’s air, and wants to evaporate. When rubber doesn’t turn into air, I’m left with a once put together, full balloon, that you can’t tell was ever a balloon.)
it’s quiet
this mind
of nothing
wanting to walk
but too cold to move
echoes of playing
and children losing minds
(The third stanza, I talk about how I project myself. I don’t talk anymore, feeling powerless. Watching life continue, with everything that is wrong with it. Wanting to help everything wrong, but knowing I can’t. The last line addresses that this happens to children all the time. Kids just play games, good or bad, with no care in the world.)
it’s okay
this feeling
of nothing
(At this point, I am so exhausted and can’t handle any more thinking. So I don’t.)
